


Too Easy A Shot

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-17
Updated: 2007-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Something goes awry while the senior officers are visiting a planet, and Trip is left wondering why Malcolm reacted the way he did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Trip leaned with one elbow on the bar counter and brought the alien drink to his lips, taking a cautious sip. It was nothing like good Earth liquor but, given its exotic colour and disturbing muddiness, heâ€™d actually expected it to be a lot worse than it was. It tasted a bit like a sweet wine, though it was thicker, and he hoped his scannerâ€™s readings, which had pronounced it harmless for consumption, were actually to be trusted. 

Glancing at Malcolm, who stood rigidly a few feet away, he couldnâ€™t help but frown. â€œYouâ€™re off duty, Malcolmâ€ he said deadpan.

â€œReally?â€ Malcolm muttered absently, looking as if he hadnâ€™t heard a word. His eyes busily scanned the large, covered plaza, which was swarming with people of many different species. 

â€œI swear â€“ the only times Iâ€™ve seen ya relaxed was when ya were out cold,â€ Trip drawled, shaking his head and breaking into a grin that was lost on his distracted friend.

Malcolm didnâ€™t respond; his eyes had found what they were looking for and were riveted to that one spot.

The small planet they were on, Vegor 2, was nothing more than an inhospitable rock in a small, uninhabited system - nobodyâ€™s land. It stood, however, more or less at the centre of a very busy region of space, which was why a few clever individuals of a species Trip could not recall ever having heard of had set up a profitable business on it, building and running a large trading compound that seemed to attract more ships than Rigel 10. Enterprise had wandered nearby, and the Captain had decided to check the place out. Archer had brought along his senior staff, to give them a break from routine. 

The compound was, like any market place, a seemingly disorganised mess of bustling activity, and from the moment they had set foot in it Malcolm had looked as if they had stepped into a combat zone. Having recognised the well-known signs of tension in his friend, Trip had offered to buy him a drink and had dragged him to an upper-floor platform, which was lined with bars and fast food places. The platform ran along the perimeter of the central quadrilateral plaza and opened like a balcony onto it, so from their vantage point Trip and Malcolm could see what was going on below. 

Trip tracked the spot that had got Malcolmâ€™s attention and sighed inwardly. The man was incredible: despite the crowd, Malcolm had managed to find Archer and Tâ€™Pol and was keeping a watchful eye on them. The Captain and Subcommander had remained on the bottom floor, with its vast shopping area and interesting variety of merchandise. So had Hoshi and Travis, who had declined Tripâ€™s invitation to join Malcolm and him on the grounds that their time was better-spent doing something less â€˜passiveâ€™ than drinking. He, of course, had disagreed. Heâ€™d argued that experiencing a cultureâ€™s drinking establishments had just as much sociological validity as â€˜hanging out in their shopping mallsâ€™, but that had only gotten him a raised eyebrow from Hoshi. So now he was stuck up here with Malcolm. 

Trip studied his friend and rolled his eyes. Even Porthos would be better company. Come to think of it, Malcolm had probably agreed to follow him only because from the elevated floor he could keep the situation under better control. 

Time to use subtler tactics, Trip decided. â€œSo what do you think of this?â€ he asked nonchalantly, trying to swirl the almost phosphorescent thick yellow liquid in the tall glass and taking another sip. He saw Malcolm cast a glance at him then finally avert his eyes from their crewmates in the distance. 

Malcolm looked at his own glass as if heâ€™d suddenly remembered that he was holding one. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed its contents suspiciously. â€œAre you certain this is safe to drink?â€

â€œTrust me.â€

Malcolm tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in challenge.

â€œOk. If not me, trust my scanner,â€ Trip said levelly.

â€œWell, it certainly doesnâ€™t look like something a sensible person would choose to ingest,â€ Malcolm commented wryly. He was peering into the drink as if he expected any moment to see something jump out of it, and Trip shook his head. â€œCome on, Malcolm,â€ he said with a chuckle. â€œYa know the adage: weâ€™re explorersâ€¦ let yourself go a little.â€

Malcolm sighed, raising his gaze from the glass without moving his head. â€œNeed I remind you of what happened the last time I let myself go in an alien bar, in your company?â€ 

Trip snorted. â€œIâ€™m not gonna ask ya to follow any gorgeous females into any cellar, I promise.â€

Malcolm smirked and took a small sip, immediately pulling a disgusted face. â€œGood Lord, how can you expect me to like something that is this sweet?â€ he asked in dismay, lowering the glass. 

â€œWhatâ€™s wrong with sweet?â€ A glint of amusement entered Tripâ€™s eyes. â€œAlright. When we get back to Enterprise Iâ€™ll dig somethinâ€™ out from my secret stash - to rinse our mouths with. How â€˜bout that?â€

â€œThat, Mr. Tucker, is a helluva good idea.â€ 

Trip burst into laughter. â€œYaâ€™ll never get that Southern drawl right, Loo-tenant,â€ he teased him, thickening his accent on purpose; and he was pleased to see Malcolmâ€™s grin blossom into a full smile. Well, at least he had obtained what he wanted: his friend was beginning to relax. 

A moment later Malcolmâ€™s face had suddenly fallen and he had swivelled abruptly, muttering something under his breath. Trip looked at him in surprise, but then became aware of a clamour rising among the background noise of jumbled voices.

He cast a glance to the lower floor: something was happening in a corner of the plaza. He saw people scuttling away from the spot, and watched Malcolm set his glass down on the counter without averting his eyes from the scene. 

â€œWhatâ€™s goinâ€™ on?â€ Trip asked, taking a step forward towards the balustrade. He felt Malcolm come up beside him and tense. â€œCan you see anythinâ€™?â€

â€œBloody hell.â€

The muttered curse made Trip shift his gaze to his friend. Before he knew it Malcolm had got out his phase pistol in a swift, fluent movement, and Tripâ€™s stomach clenched. 

â€œMalcolm?â€ 

Trip turned again and scanned the place frantically, trying to find what had provoked Malcolmâ€™s reaction. And then he saw it: on the far side a man had Tâ€™Pol in a tight grip and was threatening her with a gun. Archer was a step away, hands held out in a calming gesture. 

Tripâ€™s heart jumped into his throat. â€œWhat the hellâ€¦â€ he breathed out tautly. He watched in shock as people cleared away from the spot and returned to mind their own business, unmindful of Tâ€™Pol and the Captainâ€™s plight.

The attacker had his back almost completely turned to them, and with his peripheral vision Trip saw the Armoury Officerâ€™s arm come up to take aim. Trip tore his eyes away from their threatened crewmates: weapon in a secure grip, Reed had the man in his direct line of fire and was stock still, a block of granite. Around them, people seemed to watch the scene with nothing more than curiosity.

â€œStun him,â€ Trip urged. 

Malcolmâ€™s face was an impenetrable mask but for his grey eyes, which showed more than Trip would have liked to read at the moment. 

â€œMalcolm! What the hell are you waitinâ€™ for?â€ 

Trip was puzzled by Malcolmâ€™s hesitation. He had no doubt the Armoury Officer could hit the target that man was offering almost with his eyes closed. 

Malcolm swallowed; then, to Tripâ€™s bewilderment, lowered his weapon, shaking his head once, hard. â€œItâ€™s not safe,â€ he said in a deep voice, releasing the breath heâ€™d been holding. 

Trip grabbed him by the arm, a little more roughly than he had intended. â€œWhat do you mean itâ€™s not safe? A still target from this distance? You can hit one half the size of that man,â€ he snapped back. 

Malcolm pursed his lips. â€œYou donâ€™t understandâ€¦â€ he began, his eyes darting between Trip and Tâ€™Pol.

â€œThere is nothinâ€™ to understand, just do it,â€ Trip repeated in frustration.

Malcolm flashed him a stormy look. â€œIt might not be the right thing to do,â€ he said, and his voice was uneasy. As if he, of all men, lacked confidence. 

Trip couldnâ€™t understand what was going on with his friend, but he knew that things might get out of hand any moment down there. They had to take their advantage before it slipped away, and if Malcolm was hesitant, he would decide for him. He clenched his jaw. 

â€œShoot, Lieutenant, thatâ€™s an order.â€ 

Malcolm cast him a longer, almost pained glance, but responded to Tripâ€™s authoritative tone. Taking a deep breath, he held it in and raised the pistol, tensing up into a shooting stance again. But still he wouldnâ€™t pull the trigger.

â€œDammit, Malcolm, do it or hand me the pistol!â€ Trip growled. â€œEven I can hit aâ€¦â€ 

Too late. The assailant had turned, and now Tâ€™Pol was facing them. 

Trip cursed in frustration. Leaning with both hands on the balustrade, he watched helplessly as the man dragged Tâ€™Pol away from the main plaza, followed obediently by Archer, all of them disappearing into a passageway which led to other sections of the compound.

Trip swivelled to face Reed but Malcolm gave him no time to open his mouth. â€œLetâ€™s go,â€ the Lieutenant said in low but resolute tones this time. He took off towards the nearest staircase and Trip was left no other option than to do the same. 

As he jogged after him, Trip reached for his communicator. â€œTucker to Mayweather.â€

â€œCommander, how are the local beverages?â€ Travis answered cheerfully.

â€œTravis, someone just dragged Tâ€™Pol away at gunpoint. The Captâ€™n went with them too,â€ Trip said in one breath. â€œWhere are you?â€

â€œHoshi and I are on the underground level.â€ All happiness had gone from Travisâ€™s voice.

They were running down the staircase two steps at a time now, Malcolm nimbly dodging people, Trip bumping into them and having a hard time keeping up with the lighter and more agile man. 

â€œTell him to get to the landing platforms, keep an eye on any vessels leaving,â€ Malcolm shouted over his shoulder, and Trip wondered how the man could look so focused ahead and still be well aware of what was going on around him. 

â€œCheck all departinâ€™ vessels,â€ Trip immediately relayed. 

â€œAye, Sir.â€

They finally reached the ground floor, and wound their way through the crowd to the place where they had last seen Tâ€™Pol and Archer. Scanners in hand, they began to check for human or Vulcan biosigns, but with so many different races on the planet it was a long shot.

â€œWhere the hell are they?â€ Trip growled in frustration.

â€œLetâ€™s separate,â€ Malcolm instructed. â€œYou take left, I take right. But â€“ Commander.â€ He uncharacteristically grabbed Trip by the arm and looked straight into his eyes. â€œNo rushed decisions. Contact me if you find them.â€

Trip nodded, feeling his friendâ€™s tension through the grip he had on him, and they parted.

Trip made slow progress among the people that swarmed the plaza. They all seemed to have returned to their activities as if nothing had happened. There were many species Trip had never seen before and he looked warily around as he moved on. It was difficult to concentrate in that confusion of sounds, colours and movement, and Trip kept glancing at his scanner, hoping the instrument would show familiar biosigns. 

A burly alien jostled him as he passed by, making Trip stumble and crash against a stall laden with artefacts; a squeal erupted from behind it, and a scaly hand shoved him roughly away, its owner sending a string of angry words after him. He muttered â€˜sorryâ€™ and carried on, cursing his own streak under his breath and scanning the place with his eyes. 

Was that the blue of a Starfleet uniform? Trip quickened his pace, pushing his way through people without worrying now if he was being less than polite. But when he got closer he realised that what he had seen was the jacket of some kind of personnel that seemed to be stationed at key spots in the compound. Could it be security? 

He was about to approach the man, when his scanner beeped. Vulcan biosigns. Tripâ€™s heart began to race, and he reached for his communicator.

â€œTucker to Reed.â€ 

â€œYes.â€

â€œIâ€™ve got Vulcan biosigns,â€ Trip said in earnest. â€œThis floor, somewhere in the eastern section. Not too far from where I am.â€

â€œWhat about human biosigns?â€ Malcolm asked after a brief moment. 

Trip checked his instrument. â€œI donâ€™t see any,â€ he said. â€œBut perhaps as I get closer the scanner will pick them up. Or they got separated.â€

There was another small pause, then Malcolmâ€™s voice came through again, and Trip could hear the urgency in it again. â€œSend me the co-ordinates and go there, but donâ€™t do anything. Wait for me,â€ Malcolm said in the inflexible tone of command.

â€œUnderstood.â€ Trip did as instructed and flipped his communicator closed, smirking. Malcolm was the Chief of Security, he mulled as he headed for the eastern section; which meant he would be in charge of this contingency. Still, the Lieutenant had given him a rather harsh order, and there had been a dark ring to his voice that left him wondering. His behaviour so far had been more than a little offbeat. 

Trip took position behind a column a few meters away from one room. His scanner told him Tâ€™Pol was being held behind that closed door. He didnâ€™t have long to wait. Soon he spotted Malcolm jogging his way. 

As he came to a halt near him their eyes met, and Trip read the silent question in the other manâ€™s. â€œMeeting rooms,â€ Trip informed him, jerking his chin towards a series of doors opening onto a large corridor. Tâ€™Pol seems to be inside that one,â€ he added, pointing to the second door on the right. â€œNo signs of the Captâ€™n.â€

Malcolm leaned against the column. â€œHow many biosigns in there?â€ He was breathing a little faster from the running, and his eyes were fixed on the closed door as if by staring hard enough he might be able to see through it. 

â€œTwo, one unknown,â€ Trip replied. He showed him the readings on his scanner.

Malcolm glanced at the instrument. A rivulet of sweat trickled from his temple down the side of his face, and Trip watched it leave a shiny path on Malcolmâ€™s cheek. Indeed the air in the compound was warm and stuffy, and Tripâ€™s own forehead was beaded with perspiration.

â€œHave you tried hailing the Captain?â€ Malcolm asked as he wiped an arm across his brow.

â€œYeah. No reply.â€ 

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Malcolm pursed his lips, deep in thought. â€œI donâ€™t like this,â€ he murmured tensely. â€œAssuming that is Tâ€™Pol, if we manage to free her it might endanger the Captain.â€ 

Trip felt like reminding the Lieutenant that they wouldnâ€™t be in this situation had Malcolm followed his order to shoot the man when heâ€™d had a chance, but he knew this was not the moment to say that, and bit his tongue. Frustration and concern were pulling at his gut, though, and he couldnâ€™t stop himself from barking out, â€œWell, here we are now: what are we gonna do, Lieutenant? We canâ€™t exactly sit on our hands.â€ 

Malcolm glanced at him briefly, but long enough for Trip to see his gaze turn to ice; when he spoke, his voice was deep and all spikes. â€œA hostage situation is a tricky thing to handle, Commander,â€ he said dourly. â€œA damn nightmare.â€ He clenched his jaw. â€œWe must find out where the Captain is.â€

Trip was about to ask him how he proposed to do that, when his communicator chirped. He flipped it open and Travisâ€™s anxious voice floated out.

â€œCommander, Iâ€™m reading human and Vulcan biosigns aboard a vessel that is about to leave the planetâ€™s atmosphere.â€

Trip exchanged a wide-eyed look with Malcolm. â€œTell Enterprise to keep track of it. Tucker out,â€ he shouted back as he followed Reed, who had taken off towards the door, phase pistol at the ready. 

A well-known determination was now on Malcolmâ€™s face. â€œOpen the door, on the count of three,â€ the Lieutenant whispered tautly, checking the setting on his pistol. 

Cursing the fact he was unarmed and unable to help if things got ugly, Trip prepared to do his part. Malcolm mouthed the countdown, and when Trip flung the door open hurled himself inside, phase pistol aimed in front.

Two people jumped up in alarm, knocking their chairs down. 

â€œAmbassador?â€ Trip and Malcolm exclaimed in unison.

Â§ 2 Â§

It was Soval who found his tongue first and broke the stunned silence. 

â€œCommander, Lieutenant,â€ he said, quickly recovering his Vulcan control. â€œMay I ask what you are doing here and why you are interrupting a private meeting in such aâ€¦ forceful way?â€ 

He might have looked unperturbed but his voice had the slightly higher pitch of annoyance, if not trepidation. Trip shared a meaningful glance with Malcolm, who had lowered his pistol and seemed eager to bolt out of the door again. Trip didnâ€™t want to waste any time either, but was intrigued by Sovalâ€™s presence on Vegor 2.

â€œI might ask you the same thing, Ambassador,â€ Trip replied coolly. â€œAt least as far as the first part goes.â€ 

Trip wondered briefly how much he should tell the man. He had never totally trusted Vulcans, and this one in particular, who had more than once seemed openly eager to see Enterprise grounded.

The person with Soval had taken a few of steps back into a darker corner of the room and turned away from them, his body language conveying the firm intention to keep out of the conversation, in fact to remain as much in the background as possible. He was a tall humanoid, and from the little Trip could see, had rather indistinct features but the bearing of a person of importance. Trip did not recognise his species. 

Suddenly Malcolm spoke.

â€œWe ought to go, Commander,â€ he murmured in a low voice that said more than the words let through. Trip shot him a questioning glance and read a request for caution in the Security Officerâ€™s eyes. 

â€œYou owe me an explanation,â€ Soval said firmly. â€œI insist to know why you have broken in here in such a fashion.â€

â€œYou arenâ€™t by any chance sayinâ€™ youâ€™re curiousâ€¦â€ Trip retorted with a challenging grin. â€œSorry,â€ he added a moment later, quickly reshaping his features to seriousness. â€œWe made a mistake.â€ He was about to leave when a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks. â€œBut maybe you oughtta tell me where I can find you â€“ in case I wanted to. Our scanners must be malfunctioninâ€™, because they didnâ€™t pick up any signs of Vulcan ships in orbitâ€¦â€

Soval looked as uncomfortable as a Vulcan might allow himself to be. â€œIâ€™ll contact Enterprise myself, if needs be,â€ he said. 

Trip bit his lip, not liking the reply. A little voice told him he should make sure he knew where to find the Ambassador. â€œWhat if I need to get to you?â€ he asked, knowing the question was a bit more revealing than he would have liked.

Soval narrowed his eyes. â€œThen I suggest you leave me one of your communicators,â€ he said in his flat voice.

Trip clenched his jaw, weighing his options. He could see Soval would not give him any alternative, and he had no time to argue with him. He turned to Malcolm, hand outstretched; Reed met his eyes and smirked unhappily, but unzipped his arm pocket and handed him the device. 

â€œThank you, Commander,â€ Soval said, receiving the object from Trip. He blinked once. â€œA logical decision,â€ he added.

Trip felt Malcolmâ€™s hand on his arm. â€œCommander, we really must go now,â€ Reed repeated with restrained urgency. A moment later they were racing to their shuttlepod.

Â§Â§Â§

â€œI asked the traffic controllers, and the vessel on which Tâ€™Pol and the Captain left is Felesian,â€ Hoshi informed Trip as Travis readied the shuttlepod for lift-off.

â€œWho the hell are they? Ever heard of them?â€ Trip asked, plopping down in the co-pilot seat. 

Hoshiâ€™s brow knit imperceptibly. â€œI think I came across the name once,â€ she replied. â€œIt might be in the Vulcan database. Iâ€™ll check first thing when weâ€™re back.â€

Trip reached for the comm. link. â€œTucker to Enterprise.â€

â€œGo ahead, Sir,â€ Hoshiâ€™s replacement replied.

â€œWe are returning to the ship, will be dockinâ€™ inâ€¦â€ He glanced at Travis, who mouthed â€˜fifteenâ€™. â€œâ€¦Approximately fifteen minutes.â€

â€œUnderstood.â€

â€œIs MÃ¼ller on the bridge?â€ Malcolm asked, before the link was cut off.

â€œSir?â€ MÃ¼llerâ€™s bass voice replied.

â€œAs of this moment nobody is to try and hail me through my communicator.â€ 

There was a puzzled pause which lasted but a second. 

â€œAye, Sir.â€

â€œAre you keeping an eye on that vessel?â€

â€œYes, Lieutenant. It left the planetâ€™s atmosphere a few minutes ago.â€

â€œDonâ€™t let it out of sight. Reed out.â€

The shuttlepod lifted and Malcolm, who had been standing, almost lost his balance. He stumbled to a bench and dropped to sit on it mumbling a soft curse. Trip turned to the sound and took a moment to study his friend, knowing all too well what must be going on inside him. Not that it was difficult to guess - his own guts were in knots. But taking in Malcolmâ€™s rigid posture and taut face â€“ gaze glued to the floor â€“ Trip mulled there was really no mistaking his friendâ€™s feelings. 

Reed no doubt felt the weight of responsibility and quite badly, and Trip winced at the thought that this time it couldnâ€™t be argued that he had indeed reason to. Trip wanted to know what had happened on the planet, why the generally self-assured Security Officer had wavered; but this was neither the place nor the moment for questions. And although the memory of Reedâ€™s fateful hesitancy stirred feelings of irritation deep inside him, Trip made an effort to stifle them. He knew it would be a mistake to let them have the better of him. A confrontation with Malcolm was not going to help them in the rescue mission that lay ahead. This was no time to place blame and pull apart, but rather to work together.

As if aware of Tripâ€™s close scrutiny, Malcolm roused himself from his thoughts and raised his eyes. They were stormy, just as Trip had expected. Malcolm opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, and Trip shook his head lightly, sending him a silent message. Explanations could wait. He watched to make sure Reed had received it then turned to Travis. 

â€œHow much longer till we dock?â€ It was a stupid question, Mayweather had told him five minutes ago that the flight back would take fifteen minutes; but Travis, bless him, didnâ€™t underline it and just answered, â€œTen minutes, Commander.â€ 

â€œThe person with Sovalâ€¦â€ 

Trip turned again to Malcolmâ€™s veiled voice. The Lieutenant had a concentrated expression on his face. 

â€œI wasnâ€™t able to get a good enough look â€“ only got a glimpse of him when I burst in, before he withdrew into that dark corner â€“ but something about him struck me as strange,â€ Malcolm continued. He averted his gaze briefly, before shooting a questioning look at Trip. â€œHave you noticed anything?â€

Trip frowned. â€œNot really, but his behaviour was sure suspiciousâ€¦ Is that why you cautioned me against tellinâ€™ Soval more?â€

â€œYes. Something was not right in that room.â€ Malcolm pursed his lips and tilted his head, then wondered in a throaty voice, â€œWhy is a person of Sovalâ€™s importance on Vegor 2, and why was the person he was meeting with trying to hide his identity?â€ He smirked. â€œAnd how did Soval get to Vegor in the first place, if there are no Vulcan ships in orbit? Besides, if he didnâ€™t get here on a Vulcan ship, why is that?â€ He shook his head. â€œI wouldnâ€™t trust telling him anything before we get a clearer picture of what is going on.â€

Trip heaved a tense breath. â€œAs soon as we are on board Enterprise weâ€™ll go after that vessel and try hailinâ€™ them. Hoshi, I count on you beinâ€™ able to communicate with these Felâ€¦ Felâ€¦â€

â€œFelesians,â€ Hoshi filled in. â€œIâ€™ll get into the Vulcan database right away, Sir. But even if their language is not in there, Iâ€™ll do my best.â€

â€œFour minutes to docking,â€ Travis announced.

Â§Â§Â§

Archer grimaced as he groggily floated towards consciousness, letting out a low groan: there was a bitter taste in his mouth and his head hurt, a vein in his temple throbbing painfully with every heartbeat. He knew, unfortunately, that these were not the after-effects of a drink too many. The memory of the alien injecting him with that painful substance was still lingering in his mind, no matter how befuddled this felt at the moment. Well, he might not have clear thoughts, but he still had his life, for which he had seriously feared in the brief moments before losing consciousness.

He made to raise a hand to massage his forehead, and found that he could not. Tied. He cracked his eyes open. Pitch dark. â€œTâ€™Pol?â€ he croaked out. Silence. Another groan, this one containing also a good deal of aggravation, escaped his lips. 

Slumped on a cold metal floor of some kind, all he could hear was his own breathing, ragged and loud. Actuallyâ€¦ He held his breath. A low-pitched background noise was also thereâ€¦ the buzz of engines. They --- he must be on a ship. Yes, he could feel the familiar vibrations. 

With a determined effort Archer forced himself to a sitting position, squeezing his eyes tight as fireworks erupted in his skull. Immediately he felt his body weaken, and he doubled over, the pain, the darkness and the sudden nausea rising in his throat teaming up to make him lose his balance. Once again, he fell to the floor, on his side. The metal flooring was cold against his temple, a blessing for his aching head, so he just lay there, spent.

Things had happened so damn fast. Donâ€™t they always, when they take a turn for the worse? he mulled grimly. 

Tâ€™Pol had looked so at ease on that planet. Archer made a conscious effort to relax his tense muscles, and let the memories wash over him. 

They had watched Travis and Hoshi disappear through the crowd towards a section of the compound lined with food stalls, engaged in cheerful conversation. Archer had suddenly envied their easy and companionable friendship, and asked Tâ€™Pol, out of the blue, if she minded him keeping her company. She had arched a graceful eyebrow, in that characteristic way of hers which he had grown so fond of, and told him that she had no particular objective in mind and he may escort her if he so desired. Archer had smiled at the unerring formal wording of her reply, and she had raised also her second eyebrow, latching her hands behind her back.

They had roamed the ground floor, Archer enjoying watching her closely. He had tried to do so unobtrusively, but he had definitely been less interested in the stalls and merchandise themselves than in Tâ€™Polâ€™s almost imperceptible reactions to them. It had become a game for him to try and figure out the feelings that ran behind her deep, dark eyes and porcelain features. For he knew they were there, not so buried as she made them out to be, not so carefully kept in check as she may want them. It hadnâ€™t taken him so very long to find out, either. He could still remember one of the first times he had recognised that in Tâ€™Pol. They had been visiting that Akaali village, looking for the source of the energy readings they had detected from orbit, and he had told his Science Officer that heâ€™d remain behind to question Riann, the Apothecary. The woman had offered him a cup of tea, and as Tâ€™Pol was leaving to return to Enterprise she had murmured to him â€˜enjoy your teaâ€™. The ribbing, the subtle humour had been clear; and also a touch of jealousy, which had thoroughly pleased Archerâ€™s ego.

In the compound on Vegor 2, Tâ€™Pol had casually led them to a line of stalls where cuts of cloth were sold. Some were made of material the like of which Archer had never seen. Thin and light, vivid colours blended into each other to form random patterns of fascinating beauty. He had reached out to touch one bolt, intrigued by its alien texture, and had been surprised to see Tâ€™Pol hesitantly do the same, obviously giving in to another one of those oh-so-human emotions - curiosity. Archer remembered thinking that women, no matter of what species, all seemed to be attracted by fabrics and articles of clothing. He had cracked a joke, saying a dress made of such thin material was not going to leave much to the imagination, and Tâ€™Pol had given him one of her trademark replies, saying â€˜she failed to see the logic in looking at someone and trying to imagine what was under their garmentsâ€™. They had walked away with Archer laughing softly and explaining to her that it was definitely not because of any logic that people did that.

A moment later a gun had been pointed at Tâ€™Polâ€™s temple, and a stout man had held her with her back against him, pressing his left arm against her neck. Archer had been petrified as the alien shouted excitedly in his unintelligible sibilant jargon. Tâ€™Polâ€™s face had been impassive, but her wide eyes had been darker that usual.

Damn, Archer silently cursed as worry for his SIC made his heart clench. He shifted a little so as to move his throbbing temple to a cooler piece of flooring. What the hell did that man want with them? He had dragged Tâ€™Pol away, and Archer had followed him, not sure the attacker wanted him to, but both afraid to make the wrong move and unwilling to see his Science Officer disappear in the clutches of a terrorist. And then, after they had left the crowded central plaza, two other aliens had joined them. A hypospray had been emptied into his bloodstream, pain instantly shooting through his head, and all had turned dark.

Archer cracked his eyes open, staring off at nothing. 

And now he was here.

Â§ 3 Â§

Decon seemed interminable. Malcolm usually enjoyed the peaceful environment and soft blue lights; and especially the feeling of cleansing his body from any unwanted travelling companions. He was a rather private person, but had even grown accustomed to being â€“ when the circumstances required it â€“ scantily clothed in the presence of other crewmembers. It had taken some learning, especially with some crewmembers sharing decon with him â€“ uhm, in particular one Ensign; but he had managed it. And coating himself with gel no longer made him cringe in disgust. 

Today, though, decon was insufferable. 

As they waited and hoped for Phloxâ€™s green light, Trip had paged the bridge, he too obviously feeling nervous and impatient. The Felesian vessel was still within sensorsâ€™ range, and Trip had ordered Mayweatherâ€™s replacement to break orbit and set out in pursuit at Warp 4. 

Malcolm felt like pacing, but was too self-conscious to do it. It would give away too much of his emotional state. He hugged himself tightly and leaned back against the wall, re-playing in his mind the events that had passed. 

You did the right thing, he told himself once again. He silently screamed it, in fact, for all of a sudden his conscience seemed to have become pretty hard of hearing. But what if he hadnâ€™t done the right thing? They all might have been back on Enterprise right now, safe and sound, if he had pulled that trigger. No. A memory flashed through his mind, and out of instinct he scrunched his eyes shut, exhaling loudly and passing a hand over his face to erase it. 

When he looked again, Trip was there. â€œYou ok?â€ Trip asked softly. Hoshi and Travis were deep in conversation in another corner of decon, so the question had been meant for his ears only. 

Malcolm considered giving him his standard reply, but it was painfully obvious that he wasnâ€™t â€˜fineâ€™, and it would only get Trip mad if he said so. That wouldnâ€™t be fair to his friend either. He felt he owed him at least an explanation, if not more. 

â€œTrip, there is a reason why I didnâ€™t shoot,â€ he replied just as softly, looking up into the taller manâ€™s blue gaze and holding it. He swallowed. What he was going to say next was difficult and threatened to stick in his throat, but he needed to spit it out. His eyes yearned to leave the face of his Commander and friend, but he forced them to stay put. â€œIt might have beenâ€¦ the wrong decision, Iâ€™m not certain. Butâ€¦â€ 

â€œYouâ€™re all free to go,â€ Phloxâ€™s voice interrupted. â€œYou didnâ€™t pick up anything pernicious on that planet.â€ 

â€œThanks, Doc,â€ Trip called over his shoulder, his eyes still locked with Malcolmâ€™s. 

â€œLetâ€™s go,â€ he said, and Malcolm was grateful and relieved that Tripâ€™s tone was neither harsh nor accusing. â€œWhatever happened,â€ Trip added quietly, â€œIs in the past. Now itâ€™s time to focus on whatâ€™s ahead.â€

Malcolmâ€™s heart clenched. Trip would never guess just how true some of that rang to his ears. But sometimes, unfortunately, the past had a way of interfering with your present. 

He heaved a deep breath and let Tripâ€™s hand, which had come to rest on his shoulder, guide him gently through the door. He felt a confident energy come from his touch and drew from it, determined to get them out of the fix which he himself might have gratuitously landed them in.

Thank God for positive-thinking Southerners.

Â§Â§Â§

The young woman at helm looked quite happy to hand the piloting over to Mayweather. A collective breath of relief, in fact, was almost audible when the senior officers stepped onto the bridge. 

Hoshi immediately went to her station and called up the Vulcan database. 

MÃ¼ller slid out of the seat at tactical, nodding to Reed. â€œWe havenâ€™t let it out of sight, Lieutenant,â€ he said sternly, pointing to a blip on the monitor.

â€œThank you, Bernhard.â€

Trip sat down in the Captainâ€™s chair. â€œWhatâ€™s their speed, Travis?

â€œWarp 3.5, Sir.â€

â€œHow long till we catch up with them?â€ 

Travis made a fast calculation. â€œAt both our current speeds, about twenty minutes.â€

â€œHere it is,â€ Hoshiâ€™s earnest voice called out. â€œFelesia,â€ she read. â€œThird planet of twelve in a system set in the eastern sector of the Alpha Quadrant. Some four light years from here.â€ 

Hoshi skimmed through the file, looking for the most relevant information. â€œNot outright xenophobic but a strongly individualistic race,â€ she continued. â€œTechnologically advanced.â€ She pointed a finger to some information on the screen. â€œHere. The Vulcans made contact once. Iâ€™ll upload the language into the UT right away.â€

â€œOne thing less to worry about,â€ Trip commented tensely. â€œAre we in range for hailing them?â€ 

â€œBarely, Sir,â€ Hoshi replied. â€œBut Iâ€™ll still need a minute to set up the UT.â€

â€œWeâ€™re gaining on them, Sir,â€ Mayweather chimed in. 

Malcolm checked his readings. â€œItâ€™s a small vessel but quite well armed. Particle weapons and torpedoes. Shall I bring our own weapons online?â€ he asked in a calm voice. 

Trip turned to him, pleased and relieved that the Lieutenant seemed to be his normal, cool and gritty self again. He had to be able to count on him. The scene on Vegor 2 had made him realise that he had always taken Malcolmâ€™s seemingly infallible confidence and determination for granted. The man was human after all â€“ even though sometimes he didnâ€™t seem it.

â€œHold your horses, Malcolm,â€ he said after a moment of consideration. â€œWe donâ€™t want to come in too strong. Just polarise the hull plating.â€

Malcolm nodded and proceeded to do as ordered. 

They travelled in silence for a couple of minutes. Trip felt anxiousness grip him with icy hands and made a conscious effort to try and relax his taut muscles. Damn, he hated this kind of responsibility, making decisions that could cost the lives of friends. Pursuing unknown aliens who had abducted their Captain and First Officer wasnâ€™t the kind of mission he had expected to ever be on. In his early days in Starfleet he had envisioned a totally different future for himself. And when he had got the post of Chief Engineer onboard Earthâ€™s first Warp Five ship he had imagined himself keeping the vessel in perfect working order as they happily roamed the universe, drawing star charts and meeting new species. Peaceful new species. And although, after they had launched, it hadnâ€™t taken him long to realise how naÃ¯ve his expectations had been, it still hit him hard every time they ran into scrapes like the one they were facing now. 

Hoshiâ€™s voice roused him from his thoughts. â€œIâ€™m ready, Commander,â€ she said, and her tone, like Malcolmâ€™s, was one of professionalism. Thank God he could rely on a damn good crew. Friends who would give all they had to bring their people back. 

Trip turned to his left and felt his chest constrict at the unfamiliar sight of a blond head bent over Tâ€™Polâ€™s science station. Their Vulcan SIC often had a way of getting on his nerves, but he had inexplicably grown fond of her, and he suddenly realised that Enterprise just didnâ€™t seem to be the same without her. Turning back to Hoshi, he nodded his â€˜go aheadâ€™ and stood up. 

A moment later a stout man filled the screen in front of them. Trip exchanged a quick look with Malcolm and read in his eyes confirmation that this was the alien who had threatened Tâ€™Pol. 

â€œI am Commander Charles Tucker of Earthâ€™s starship Enterprise,â€ Trip said, his voice not quite friendly but carefully keeping his anger in check.

The Felesian looked at him and then let his eyes wander around the bridge, to the others. 

They were light years away from Earth, and here was someone who, except for eyes that were set a bit further apart and a slightly greyish skin colour, could have been one of them. Trip never ceased being amazed by the fact that the universe wasnâ€™t really all that wild in its diversity; he had always thought it quite remarkable that so many not-all-that-different humanoid species existed. 

â€œYou are of the same species as the man we have in custody,â€ the alien finally said. His voice was metallic, giving it a disturbingly cold tone.

â€œThat is precisely why we are hailing you,â€ Trip said firmly. â€œYou are holding captive our Captain and Vulcan First Officer. You attacked them on Vegor 2 without provocation. We demand that you reverse course immediately and return them.â€ 

The alien broke in a smile that revealed one of those small differences that made the universe varied after all: teeth that were very thin and sharp, like rows of nails. The expression on his face was far from cheerful, though. â€œI am afraid we cannot do what you are asking,â€ he said.

Trip clenched his jaw. â€œWhy did you attack and kidnap our people?â€ he asked outright, and this time he could not keep the rage he felt from showing through. â€œWe have no issues with Felesians; we had never even met any of you before today.â€

The man shrugged. â€œBlame it on fate. And on a small mistake. Your Captain looks a lot like a Doronite. And he was in the company of a Vulcan. Not exactly the one we wanted, but we realised it too late. Our intelligence was limited, unfortunately.â€ He came closer to the screen and narrowed his eyes. â€œSo now we will have to make do with what we have.â€

â€œWho the hell are you?â€ Trip barked back. â€œAnd what are you talkinâ€™ about? What are you planninâ€™ to do with our people?â€ 

â€œThat will depend,â€ the alien replied calmly. â€œBut I suggest you keep away from us,â€ he added with another, rather threatening smile.

Trip took a calming breath. In the months aboard Enterprise he had learned from Archer that the art of diplomacy was a subtle thing. Not that he felt particularly inclined to go down that lane, mind you. 

â€œI have a suggestion too,â€ he said, stifling his irritation as best as he could. â€œDrop out of warp and letâ€™s discuss this civilly, around a table. I donâ€™t know who these Doronites are, but whatever bone you have to pick with the Vulcans, we are willinâ€™ to mediate. Not if you hold our people hostage, though.â€ 

The alien looked at Trip long and hard. â€œIâ€™m afraid this game is bigger than you, Commander.â€ 

Trip returned the alienâ€™s steady stare. â€œIâ€™ll let you know that Captain Archer has already mediated between Vulcans and Andorians. If you give him a chance he might be able to help. And in case you havenâ€™t noticed we are travellinâ€™ quite a bit faster than you. Pretty soon weâ€™ll have caught up with your vessel. We donâ€™t want a fight, butâ€¦â€ 

He was interrupted by a harsh laugh. â€œKeep well, Commander Tucker. It was a pleasure speaking with you.â€

A moment later the screen went blank. 

â€œSorry, Commander,â€ Hoshi said. â€œHe cut the communication off.â€

Tripâ€™s jaw jutted out in irritation. â€œI noticed.â€

â€œSir,â€ Mayweather said in a puzzled tone of voice. â€œIâ€™ve lost them.â€ 

â€œThe bloody bastards cloaked,â€ Malcolm cursed without restraint. 

Trip closed his eyes and silently added a few choice words of his own. When he reopened his eyes there was cold fury in them. He turned to Reed. â€œI think itâ€™s time to check if we are still in range to raise a certain person through your communicator,â€ he hissed. â€œBut firstâ€¦â€ Narrowing his eyes he turned to the other side of the bridge. â€œHoshi, check if the Vulcan database has anything on these Doronites.â€

Â§Â§Â§

The light came on all of a sudden, blinding him, and Archer squeezed his eyes shut. The glare, moreover, was doing nothing to help his headache. His curiosity, though, was stronger than the pain, so after a moment he took a peek around. He seemed to be in a small cargo bay. Not that there was much in it, just a few crates, all seemingly well locked. 

Archer took stock of himself. Heavy metallic handcuffs had his wrists in a secure grip. With a grunt he pushed to a sitting position and leaned against the bulkhead. Briefly closing his eyes again, he took a few controlled breaths, wondering why all of a sudden he had been granted the gift of light. As it was, he didnâ€™t have to for long: he heard steps approaching and then the hatch was unlocked and pushed open. 

He sat straighter and blinked. One of the men who had drugged him was pushing Tâ€™Pol through the door. She was handcuffed as well.

â€œAre you all right?â€ he asked, his voice thick and hoarse. 

â€œI am unharmed,â€ Tâ€™Pol replied, but Archer could hear a thin veil of hesitation coating her Vulcan poise. 

â€œWhatâ€™s going on?â€ He didnâ€™t know whether the aliens had a UT â€“ they hadnâ€™t been able to communicate before he had lost consciousness â€“ but he had to ask anyway.

It was Tâ€™Pol who answered. â€œThese are Felesians. They are from a planet in the eastern sector. It appears they were on Vegor 2 to intercept a confidential meeting between diplomats from Vulcan and Doron. We were mistakenly thought to be them.â€

â€œWhat?â€ 

Archer winced as his outraged exclamation sent a wave of pain through his skull. â€œI assume they are going to release us, then,â€ he choked out as soon as the throbbing had begun to recede. 

â€œSorry,â€ the alien butted in. â€œThatâ€™s out of the question.â€

Archer turned furious green eyes abruptly on him. So the cursed man did understand them. â€œWould you mind being more specific?â€ he asked through clenched teeth.

The alien regarded him with unsympathetic eyes. â€œWe canâ€™t go back to Vegor 2,â€ he explained in his creepy, metallic voice. â€œOur intended targets will be on the alert now. But we can try and turn our little blunder into an asset.â€ A sardonic smile cracked the manâ€™s serious features. â€œAfter all, I understand you are the Captain of your planetâ€™s first Warp Five vessel; a pretty important person. And our Vulcan lady here is no less than Ambassador Sovalâ€™s former aide.â€ 

Archerâ€™s gaze was drawn to the manâ€™s pin-like teeth and he grimaced. â€œI still donâ€™t understand what you want with us. If you plan to use us as hostages let me warn you: Starfleet is not going to take that kindly.â€ 

The man snorted and shoved Tâ€™Polâ€™s, who stumbled forward. Then he turned his back on them and left.

Â§ 4 Â§

â€œCome,â€ Trip called from Archerâ€™s desk chair in the ready room, where he had taken refuge the hope that the silence would help him put some order into his jumbled thoughts.  
Hoshi came through the door, which swished closed after she took a couple of steps inside the room. 

While leaving the bridge, Trip had seen Reed cast him a glance, one that said â€˜let me helpâ€™. But he had ignored it, counting on the fact that Malcolm was too disciplined to press him. He needed to get his own thoughts straight before hearing the opinion of anyone else. Things had happened way too fast and he wasnâ€™t used to dealing with situations of this gravity and â€“ it appeared â€“ complexity. Unfortunately, after ten minutes alone and in silence, he still felt rather confused.

â€œI found some information on the Doronites, Sir,â€ Hoshi said. 

Her small frame stood perfectly still and at attention in front of him, and Trip felt somewhat uncomfortable wearing Archerâ€™s shoes. â€œAt ease, Hoshi,â€ he breathed out. He wanted to add â€˜you donâ€™t need to snap to attention before meâ€™, but he knew that heâ€™d better curb his innate laid-back nature; discipline and the chain of command, especially under the current circumstances, had to be respected. 

That didnâ€™t mean he couldnâ€™t interpret the part of acting Captain with personal flair, he conceded as he reached over the desk to the comm. link. â€œMalcolm, come in here, would ya?â€ Better let their Armoury Officer hear what Hoshi had to say too.

â€œWhat have you found?â€ Trip asked the Communication Officer a moment later, after Reed had joined them.

Hoshi cleared her throat, her posture now natural and relaxed, in stark contrast to the rigid cast that was Reedâ€™s tension-filled body. Yin and Yang, Trip briefly thought. 

â€œDoron is the second inhabited planet in the system of which Felesia is part,â€ she began. â€œBoth species are about equally advanced. Although they were never in open conflict, it seems that they havenâ€™t been getting along too well either.â€

Trip exhaled in frustration. â€œYeah, Iâ€™d gathered as much,â€ he butted in. â€œSorry, Hosh, go on,â€ he added with a regretful smirk, as he took in Malcolmâ€™s focused expression. He could tell the man was already working out theories at full speed.

â€œThe Vulcan database doesnâ€™t have much more,â€ Hoshi continued with a shrug. â€œIt appears that Doronites and Felesians have been keeping an eye on each other for decades, ever since they came into contact, both apparently afraid that the others would have designs on their own planet.â€

Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. â€œIf they are suspicious of each otherâ€¦â€ His eyes went steely. â€œWhen it comes to spying on people, which species would you say comes immediately to mind, Commander?â€

â€œHm, you mean to say the Vulcans are gettinâ€™ involved with these peopleâ€™s squabbles?â€ Trip bit his lip, a flash of Soval and his mysterious contact crossing his mind. 

Malcolm let out a sarcastic huff. His voice dropped an octave. â€œWho better than the Vulcans can show them a few tricks? Pâ€™Jem docet.â€

â€œPâ€™Jem what?â€ Trip asked with a puzzled frown.

â€œTeaches,â€ Hoshi offered. Her eyes darted sideways to Malcolm, and her mouth twitched into a quick smile. â€œItâ€™s Latin, Sir.â€

A lopsided smirk reshaped Tripâ€™s features into an expression of annoyance. â€œStick to English, will ya, Malcolm? It already sounds like a foreign language in your mouth.â€

â€œRemember when I told you that something about the man with Soval had struck me as odd?â€ Malcolm asked pensively, oblivious to Tripsâ€™ ribbing.

There was a moment of silence.

â€œI think I know what youâ€™re gettinâ€™ at, but letâ€™s hear it,â€ Trip said.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. â€œTall, lean, well-structured, light brown hair; from the glimpse I caught of him long, narrow face with high cheek-bonesâ€¦â€

Trip nodded knowingly. â€œYeah. Sounds like a description of Captâ€™n Archer. And that Felesian mentioned the Captâ€™n was mistaken for a Doronite. So Soval was meetinâ€™ a Doronite.â€ 

Malcolm brought a hand to his chin. â€œCould it be that the Vulcans are taking sides in the spying these people do on each other?â€

Trip felt his facial muscles harden. â€œI donâ€™t know, but weâ€™ll find out soon enough, I promise ya. Time to see if we can raise Soval through Malcolmâ€™s communicator.â€ He looked at Hoshi. 

â€œUnderstood, Sir.â€ Hoshi nodded and turned to leave. 

Trip saw Malcolm shoot him a hesitant glance. He looked unsure whether he too had been dismissed and should follow suit. He began to do so, in fact.

â€œHang on a moment, Malcolm,â€ Trip stopped him. 

Reed turned about and lowered stormy eyes to the deckplating. The man was obviously riding an emotional roller-coaster. More or less ok when his mind was busy analysing the situation and forming tactical plans for their rescue mission; sinking into the quick sands of his conscience the moment he stopped and let his thoughts wander to the part he had played in getting them into this. 

Trip heaved a silent sigh, changing his mind and once again postponing a certain conversation he wanted to have with the Armoury Officer. He needed to have more time for it.

â€œWe oughtta be able to pick up their warp trail, donâ€™t ya think?â€ he asked instead, even though he knew the answer.

â€œShould be possible, yes,â€ Malcolm replied, raising his gaze. It was clearer already; the question had set his mind in motion again. â€œWeâ€™ll be at the coordinates where they cloaked shortly. But we should know even before.â€

â€œI have Soval, Commander,â€ Hoshiâ€™s voice announced. â€œWe are barely within comm. range, though.â€

â€œRedirect the communication in here,â€ Trip ordered. â€œDonâ€™t go away,â€ he told Malcolm. â€œMight as well hear what the man has to say.â€

Â§Â§Â§

â€œI regret that you were caught in the midst of this, Captain,â€ Tâ€™Pol said in an atypically soft voice. 

She was sitting in a corner, on the floor, her back against the bulkhead, and Archer turned to her. He had been pacing the small cargo bay. It helped him think, and he had been on that damn cold floor for too long, anyway.

â€œI still donâ€™t understand what this is,â€ he said with a frown.

Tâ€™Pol shifted her long legs, and Archer tried not to stare. â€œDoronites and Felesians are antagonistic species from two planets that belong to the same system,â€ she said. â€œThey are known to the Vulcan High Command.â€

Archer once again heard something uncharacteristic in Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice, and felt like telling her that she shouldnâ€™t feel guilty â€“ because thatâ€™s what he thought she sounded like â€“ but refrained. She would undoubtedly answer that Vulcans are incapable of feeling guilt. 

â€œI am uncertain, however,â€ Tâ€™Pol continued, â€œAs to why â€“ if we are to believe what these Felesians told us â€“ a Vulcan diplomat would meet one from Doron, covertly, on Vegor.â€

Archer couldnâ€™t, this time, hold back a mirthless chuckle. This was more like her. â€œI donâ€™t mean to sound prejudiced,â€ he told her cuttingly, â€œBut Vulcans do like to do things behind peopleâ€™s backs.â€ He lifted challenging eyebrows. 

Tâ€™Pol locked her deep brown eyes with his, and Archer could almost read hurt in them. He felt as if he was drowning. Suddenly he was reminded of one of Phloxâ€™s most recent, bizarre theories â€“ that he was subconsciously attracted to his SIC, and averted his gaze. 

â€œIâ€™m sorry. That did sound a bit racist,â€ he mumbled. â€œMy head is killing me,â€ he added in the way of an excuse. 

â€œThen perhaps it would be advisable for you to lie down,â€ Tâ€™Pol predictably suggested. 

Logic, logic! Archer silently fumed.

Â§Â§Â§

â€œWhatâ€™s your business on Vegor 2, Ambassador?â€ Trip asked directly, as soon as he had Soval on the line.

â€œI am afraid it does not concern Starfleet, Commander,â€ was Sovalâ€™s unperturbed reply. 

Trip felt his blood boil. â€œWell Iâ€™m afraid it does now,â€ he said making an effort to keep his voice controlled. â€œCaptain Archer and Tâ€™Pol were abducted by some Felesians, who have made it quite clear they mistook them for someone else: Vulcan and Doronite diplomats, to be precise. And donâ€™t tell me you know nothinâ€™ about it,â€ he warned.

There was a moment of silence. Trip wished he could have visual. Vulcans may well be impassive, but after a couple of years in close quarters with Tâ€™Pol he had learnt to recognise the subtle shows of emotion even on their expressionless faces. Sovalâ€™s silence, in any case, was eloquent enough. 

Tripâ€™s eyes darted to Malcolm, and Reed pursed his lips in silent support.

â€œDo you know where they have taken them?â€ Soval finally replied in his unhurried Vulcan tones.

â€œWish I did,â€ Trip barked back. â€œThe ship theyâ€™re on just cloaked and disappeared from our sensors.â€ 

There was another pregnant pause.

â€œI strongly advise you to come back to Vegor 2 and let the Vulcans handle this, Commander,â€ Soval said after a moment. 

Tripâ€™s face hardened, as did his resolve. â€œThe hell I will,â€ he said in a sharp voice. â€œThis is my Captain weâ€™re talkinâ€™ about; and our Second in Command. Starfleet has a right to know whatâ€™s goinâ€™ on here. Soâ€¦â€ He bit his lip. He had been about to say â€˜Cut the crap and spill the beansâ€™ â€“ not your typical diplomatic language. And he really didnâ€™t want to know what Soval would understand of the slang expressions. 

â€œI demand that you tell us, and now,â€ he barked out. 

â€œâ€¦ simpleâ€¦ nderâ€¦â€

â€œWeâ€™re getting out of comm. rangeâ€ Malcolm muttered, crossing his arms over is chest in that tense gesture of his. 

â€œDammit!â€ Trip barely refrained from banging his fist on the desk. He exhaled loudly. â€œNot that I was hopinâ€™ to get much out of the man, but we donâ€™t know anythinâ€™ more than we did before â€“ which is near to nothinâ€™.â€ 

â€œPerhaps we should return within range and see if Soval is willing to tell us more,â€ Malcolm suggested with a concerned frown. 

Trip scrunched up his face in thought. â€œI donâ€™t want to risk losinâ€™ that warp trail.â€ He reached over Archerâ€™s desk and pressed the comm. link to the bridge. â€œHow long till we are at the coordinates?â€ he asked Mayweather.

â€œEight minutes, Sir.â€

Trip narrowed his eyes. â€œLetâ€™s see if we can already pick it up,â€ he decided, getting up. He put a hand on Reedâ€™s shoulder and they left the ready room.

Malcolm walked nimbly to his station and sat down. He got to work right away, eyes darting back and forth from the buttons to the screen in front of him. Trip leaned with one hand on the console and looked over his shoulder, feeling unreasonably reassured by the concentration that exuded from the Armoury Officer; as if the intensity Malcolm was putting in his job could alone give them a perfect warp trail to follow. 

A few, tense seconds later the answer was in front of their eyes.

â€œGot it,â€ Malcolm said almost triumphantly.

â€œSend the data to Travis,â€ Trip ordered, and Malcolm nodded silently and proceeded to do as instructed. â€œTravis, set a pursuing course.â€

â€œAye, Sir,â€ Mayweather immediately responded. 

â€œCommander,â€ Malcolm said, eyes still fixed on his screen. â€œIt appears they have picked up considerable speed. From my calculations they must be travelling approximately Warp 4.7 now.â€

Trip straightened up and went to the Captainâ€™s chair, where he paged engineering. After a moment Hess replied.

â€œWe need to push the engine, Lieutenant,â€ Trip said. â€œKeep an eye on it.â€ 

â€œUnderstood, Sir.â€

Trip stepped down to Mayweather and put a hand on his shoulder. â€œGo to Warp 5, Travis,â€ he said quietly.

Â§ 5 Â§

Eyes fixed on the screen in front of him, Malcolm tried to ignore the cold knot in his gut and concentrate solely on the task at hand. He didnâ€™t dare let his thoughts wander from the here and now. Demons he had thought to be past and buried had sprung to life again and he couldnâ€™t afford to let their haunting images distract him. Not again. 

â€œAccording to my readings the ship ought to be a mere five thousand kilometres away,â€ he said, glancing at the Captainâ€™s chair, where Trip was sitting. â€œThatâ€™s where the trail ends.â€

â€œEnds?â€ Trip asked with a frown. â€œYa mean they stopped?â€

Malcolm thought for a moment. â€œItâ€™s the logical explanation,â€ he finally said, seeing in Tripâ€™s eyes that his choice of words had sent the same thought across both their minds. Indeed he had sounded just like Tâ€™Pol. 

â€œGo to tactical alert,â€ Trip instructed tersely. â€œTravis, drop out of warp and approach the coordinates at quarter impulse.â€

Both officers nodded. The bridge was enveloped in the familiar dim blue light. 

â€œCommander,â€ Malcolm said, carefully controlling his tone of voice lest his tension seep into it, â€œThat ship was well armed. Being cloaked, we wonâ€™t have any forewarning if they should open fire.â€ His body was already on full alert, adrenaline coursing at full speed. 

â€œI know that, Malcolm,â€ Trip answered quietly. He stood up and leaned both hands on the railing in front of the tactical station. â€œWhat do you suggest we do?â€ he asked, looking straight into his eyes.

It wasnâ€™t a perfunctory question, Malcolm realised. Trip was asking for advice, his Armoury Officerâ€™s advice. There was reliance in his blue gaze and smooth voice; more, in fact: deference to his tactical experience. And Malcolm felt warmed by the manâ€™s capacity to put things behind, as well as his willingness to show him that his trust was intact. Trip seemed more inclined to forgive and forget than he himself was. He would not disappoint him again.

â€œThere isnâ€™t much we can do,â€ Malcolm replied sincerely. â€œI suggest we come to a full stop and try the diplomatic channels again. I do not recommend opening fire on a target I cannot see: our people are on board that ship, and without being able to rely on the targeting sensors I risk hitting their warp core and killing them all.â€

Tripâ€™s grip on the railing tightened. He held Malcolmâ€™s eyes a moment longer; then turned about.

â€œFull stop, Travis,â€ he ordered as he crossed the bridge behind the pilotâ€™s seat to go to Hoshi. â€œLetâ€™s try again,â€ he told the communication officer. â€œHail them, Hoshi.â€

The Ensignâ€™s hands went without hesitation to the controls, and silence filled the bridge.

Hoshi smirked, shaking her head lightly. â€œNo answer.â€

As Trip turned and took a step towards the Captainâ€™s chair, anger seething in his blue eyes, he heard Malcolm cry out, â€œHold on!â€ Not a moment later the ship rocked, sending him crashing against the chair.

â€œPhase cannon fire, direct hit,â€ Malcolm announced tersely. â€œVentral plating down to eighty percent.â€

â€œTravis, take usâ€¦â€

Tripâ€™s words were drowned by an explosion that sent Hoshiâ€™s console up in flames and the Ensign hard back in her seat and onto the floor. 

Malcolm glanced powerlessly across the bridge, where the man at science had grabbed an extinguisher. Trip had crouched near a distressingly still Hoshi, but the ship rocked violently again, jolting them all forward. Malcolm tore his eyes away from the scene to check his readings. 

â€œThat one hit our starboard nacelle,â€ he cried out. When he raised his gaze again, Trip was lying unconscious in a heap, blood streaming down his face from a cut on his forehead.

Malcolm pressed the comm. link. â€œReed to sickbay,â€ he paged. â€œWe have two people injured,â€ he told Phlox as soon as the Doctor answered. â€œTravis,â€ he then urged. 

Mayweather didnâ€™t hesitate: he knew what he had to do. Eyes fixed on his instruments, he started to move Enterprise away. But the ship had no momentum and it was slow going.

â€œIncoming torpedo,â€ Malcolm shouted. He clenched his jaw, targeted and fired. A moment later an explosion filled the viewscreen. â€œAnd another one!â€ No bloody time to target this second one. Malcolm silently cursed. â€œHold on!â€

The ship shook under the force of the hit. 

As soon as it had stabilised again, Travis sent his hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture. â€œThe helm is not responding,â€ he said, turning wide-eyed to Malcolm. â€œWeâ€™re dead in the water.â€

Malcolm felt his blood run cold. They were at the Felesiansâ€™ mercy and it was his bloody fault. He forced that thought out of his mind, together with the image of Hoshi and Trip unconscious on the floor. 

Mentally slapping himself, he willed his tactical mind to kick in. He knew what he had to do, and his chest clenched. He had a duty to defend the ship. He had a pretty good idea of where the enemy vessel was: heâ€™d have to target it manually, but there was a reasonably high chance he hit it. That, of course, would endanger the lives of the Captain and Tâ€™Pol, but on the other side of the scale was Enterprise with her eighty-one remaining people. The bloody needs of the manyâ€¦

The calculations didnâ€™t take him long. He would keep the yield low. He paused, his finger hovering over the button that would fire the port phase cannon. 

â€œSir,â€ Travis suddenly exclaimed.

â€œI see it,â€ Reed muttered, eyes fixed on his readings. The enemy ship was de-cloaking, and relief washed over him. He wouldnâ€™t have to fire blind any more. He readjusted his aim to target their weapons, but before he could do anything else there was a flash of light and the Felesians were gone.

He closed his eyes tightly. As his heart tried to escape his ribcage he was barely aware of Phlox and the medics coming onto the bridge.

Â§Â§Â§

â€œWhat are you thinking of, Subcommander?â€ Archer asked, studying Tâ€™Polâ€™s fine profile. She had looked to be somewhere else, and for a moment heâ€™d feared he might have interrupted some sort of meditation. 

If Tâ€™Pol was annoyed by the question, she â€“ of course â€“ didnâ€™t let it show. She simply stared back at Archer a moment before replying candidly, â€œI was pondering our present situation and calculating the odds of a positive outcome.â€

Archer was not able to hold in a soft chuckle: no matter what, her approach would be scientific. He was beginning to relax a little. They may be hostages, but for some reason he didnâ€™t feel they were in danger. In fact, he was finding that being held captive with Tâ€™Pol was a valuable opportunity to get to know her better. A bit like that time they had taken refuge inside the catwalk of one nacelle to escape that ion storm.

â€œAnd what have you come up with?â€ he asked, deliberately raising his eyebrows Vulcan-style to counter the expression of slight â€“ very slight â€“ puzzlement that had dawned in the Subcommanderâ€™s eyes at his soft laugh.

Tâ€™Pol tilted her head. â€œI believe the odds of being rescued are in our favour,â€ she replied matter-of-factly. â€œOur abductors will gain nothing by eliminating us. Also, it is logical to think that by now Commander Tucker will have taken the appropriate measures to try and find us, and undoubtedly Lieutenant Reed will be offering expert advice in developing a plan to retrieve us.â€

â€œYeah, those two make a good team,â€ Archer commented. â€œThe ship and our rescue plan are in good hands.â€ The thought of Reed brought a smirk onto his face. â€œMalcolm must be fuming. And once weâ€™re safely back on Enterprise I bet heâ€™ll give me the umpteenth lecture on caution,â€ he added bleakly.

â€œPerhaps you ought to take Lieutenant Reedâ€™s advice into more consideration, Captain,â€ Tâ€™Pol said. â€œI believe he does not give it to aggravate you.â€

Archerâ€™s eyebrows took a direct plunge. â€œNo, of course not,â€ he bit back. Sighing, he continued, â€œCome on, Tâ€™Pol, you must admit that he is slightly paranoid when it comes to security.â€ 

Tilting her head a little more, she stared unblinkingly at him with a face that somehow, in its impassivity, still said â€˜just-look-at-usâ€™. So he added in frustration, â€œAll right, we ran into trouble, but not even Malcolm could have anticipated that we would have been mistaken for someâ€¦ someâ€¦ damn diplomats meeting for God-knows-what sneaky business!â€

â€œMr Reed, if you remember, wanted to assign himself or a security detail to escort you while on Vegor 2. A logical precautionary measure. One that might have prevented our current predicament.â€

Archer huffed and got up to pace. Food and water had been brought to them some half hour before, and their manacles had been removed, allowing them a little more freedom of movement. 

â€œYes, well, sometimes I think Malcolm had surgery to round off his ears,â€ he ranted, reaching the not-so-far wall and turning about. 

Tâ€™Pol wrinkled her nose and Archer realised her nose-numbing agent must be wearing off. â€œI fail to see the connection between the shape of the Lieutenantâ€™s ears and his desire to protect us properly,â€ she said. 

â€œYou know what I mean, Subcommander,â€ Archer replied testily, self-consciously keeping further away from her.

â€œThe Lieutenant indeed analyses every situation with a rational eye.â€ Looking up from the floor, where she was still sitting, Tâ€™Pol went on to say, â€œBut his motives are emotional.â€ Her eyebrows did a little dance. â€œI thought you recognised that and would appreciate it, Captain.â€ 

Archer shot her an intrigued look. Tâ€™Pol, lecturing him on human emotions? And making a show of knowing all about their most secretive crewmemberâ€™s personality? She must have been studying her shipmates more closely than heâ€™d thought. 

â€œI do,â€ he answered at length. â€œMalcolm keeps his feelings very much to himself but I know his exaggerated sense of caution comes from the fact that he cares about us and wants to prevent anything bad happening. Itâ€™s just thatâ€¦â€ 

The door opened, cutting him off.

â€œEnjoyed your food, I trust?â€ the Felesian who entered asked with a mocking grin. 

Archer replied with a friendly smile, â€œIt was actually better than it looked.â€ He had tasted several alien dishes in almost two years of their mission, and this particular one hadnâ€™t fared all that badly. Better than that â€˜blood soupâ€™ he and Trip had had to gobble down that time with Sobral. Or Klingon cuisineâ€¦

It was then that the ship rumbled with the distinctive sound of torpedoes being launched, making Archerâ€™s heart leap in his chest and erasing in an instant his newly-found serenity. Tâ€™Polâ€™s eyes grew bigger, but Archerâ€™s gaze did not linger on them, shifting to the widening grin on the Felesianâ€™s face. It spoke plenty.

â€œIs that Enterprise you are firing on?â€ Archer demanded through gritted teeth, feeling his body clench with apprehension.

â€œThat Commander Tuck of yours is a stubborn man, Captain,â€ the Felesian replied coldly. â€œWe donâ€™t want to destroy your ship, but we will if he doesnâ€™t keep away from us.â€

â€œCommander Tucker is only doing what heâ€™s supposed to,â€ Archer spat out. â€œTrying to get his Captain and Second in Command back. Look,â€ he added, after forcing himself to take a calming breath. â€œItâ€™s not too late to stop this. Return us to our ship and I promise I will do all I can to help settle any dispute.â€

The Felesian snorted. â€œDonâ€™t worry, Captain. Youâ€™ll be helping all right, without having to do a thing.â€ He collected their plates and left. 

Â§Â§Â§

â€œWhatâ€™s our status?â€ Trip mumbled, blinking from his biobed. He had just regained consciousness and was still drowsy and confused. 

Malcolm shifted his gaze from the large piece of gauze covering half of Tripâ€™s forehead to his barely focussed eyes. He took a breath and stood straighter, needing to fall back on his military training to keep himself in one piece. 

â€œLieutenant Hess tells me the starboard nacelle is quite badly damaged. We wonâ€™t be able to go to warp for at least a day,â€ he said. It cost him a great effort to keep his voice quiet and controlled. â€œHelm has been repaired; communications is still out, but the repair team is making good progress.â€ 

Trip groaned and pressed two fingers on his eyes. â€œThe Felesians?â€ he asked, shifting his hand to his head and tentatively feeling the bandage there. He grimaced.

Malcolm pursed his lips, his gut knotting at the thought of the news he was about to relay. â€œThey went to warp,â€ he murmured darkly. Lowering his eyes, he added, â€œNothing I could do.â€

â€œDamn.â€ Trip slowly rolled on his side and started to push himself up to a sitting position, and Malcolm reached out to help, steadying him. He was more than a bit acquainted with the symptoms of a head injury; Tripâ€™s balance would be off and frankly he didnâ€™t want to have to pick his friend off the floor. 

â€œYou suffered a concussion,â€ he admonished him. â€œIâ€™m not sure Phlox wouldâ€¦â€

â€œYou canâ€™t exactly lecture anyone on obeyinâ€™ the Docâ€™s orders, Lieutenant,â€ Trip cut him off brusquely, albeit accepting Malcolmâ€™s help. 

Reed wondered if Tripâ€™s harsh tone was only caused by worry. He couldnâ€™t blame the man if it werenâ€™t. Slowly releasing his friendâ€™s shoulders, he remained close enough to grab him should he show signs of collapsing. â€œRight,â€ he mumbled awkwardly. He bit his lip to keep himself from warning Trip that he looked way too pale to stand up.

Trip grabbed the edge of the biobed with both hands and hesitated. â€œHoshi?â€ he asked, glancing up at him. 

Briefly tearing his eyes away from the Engineer, Malcolm let them wander to a drawn privacy curtain beyond him. â€œShe suffered burns. Phlox is still treating her,â€ he said, barely above a whisper. 

There was silence for a moment, which did nothing to ease the weight that was pressing on Malcolmâ€™s soul. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He still had to inform Trip of something. He had debated before giving the order, and was still not sure heâ€™d done the right thing. When the hell had he become so bloody uncertain? He seemed to be questioning every decision he had to make.

â€œI ordered Travis to set a course back to Vegor 2,â€ Malcolm said, forcing himself to lock eyes with his acting Captain. â€œAt impulse we havenâ€™t made much progress, though, so if you think it was the wrong decisionâ€¦â€

Trip raised a questioning chin. 

Malcolm folded his arms over his chest, a grim expression crossing his face. â€œI believe our best bet is to try and get some answers from Soval. Once the warp drive is online again it wonâ€™t take us long to be back in range to hail him; I have estimated roughly, by end of day tomorrow.â€

Trip nodded pensively. â€œYou did well, Malcolm,â€ he said, all hardness gone from his voice. Then, without warning, he let himself slide off the bed, leaning on Reedâ€™s shoulder for balance. 

â€œTrip, you do look awfully pale.â€ Malcolm couldnâ€™t keep it inside any longer as he lent a supporting hand.

â€œSo what? You do too,â€ Trip replied with a tired smirk.

Malcolm shook his head. â€œBe sensible. Take a few hours of rest, there is nothing you can do, anyway. Hess has everything under control. And I canâ€¦â€ He cut himself off, biting his lip. He could what? Mess things up a bit more? Malcolm looked away, flinching.

He felt Tripâ€™s weight on his shoulder one moment longer, then it was gone. Turning, he found Trip sitting on the bed again. â€œYou ok?â€ he asked in worry.

â€œYeah, fine.â€ 

Trip looked to be studying him. â€œPerhaps youâ€™re right. Iâ€™d better rest now so Iâ€™ll be in good shape later,â€ he said. â€œThe ship is yours. Keep an eye on things and report to me only if anythinâ€™ comes up,â€ he added.

Malcolmâ€™s facial muscles hardened. â€œAre you trying to make me feel better?â€ he asked, averting his gaze briefly. 

â€œActually, yes,â€ Trip answered directly. 

Bitterness swelled unexpectedly through Malcolm, wounding him. â€œIâ€™m not a child,â€ he said with a mirthless huff. â€œYou can tell me what you have to. I can take it.â€ 

â€œFine,â€ Trip replied seriously. â€œYouâ€™re a competent officer, Malcolm. In the fire-fight with the Felesians there was nothinâ€™ you could have done. So do me a favour and stop feelinâ€™ so damn sorry for yourself.â€ 

Pursing his lips against the harsh words, Malcolm forced himself to meet Tripâ€™s sharp blue gaze, only to see it soften.

â€œBut if you prefer I can give you a kick in the arse and order you to sleep while I keep an eye on things,â€ Trip added with a tired grin. â€œJust decide fast, â€˜cause my headache is tellinâ€™ me weâ€™re wastinâ€™ precious time.â€

Malcolm heaved a deep breath. â€œGet some rest, Commander. Iâ€™ll hold the fort,â€ he said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. 

Â§ 6 Â§

The shot was a clear one. Malcolm raised his weapon and targeted the manâ€™s broad shoulders. Easy. Nothing to it. A slight pressure on the trigger andâ€¦ 

â€œLieutenantâ€¦â€ The voice pierced the memory like a ray of sun through darkness. Malcolm snapped out of his daydreaming and re-focussed on the green eyes staring at him: they belonged to a frowning Ensign MÃ¼ller. 

â€œAre you all right, Sir?â€ Bernhard asked, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard.

Reed passed a hand over his face to wipe away the idiotic expression that must undoubtedly be over it. â€œIâ€™m sorry, Ensign,â€ he replied. â€œI was absorbed in thought.â€ He cleared his throat. â€œWhat have you got?â€ 

â€œI traced that shipâ€™s warp trail for as long as our sensors were able to pick it up. They seem to be heading back to Felesia.â€ MÃ¼ller extended a padd to him. 

â€œThank you, Ensign. Keep a close eye on tactical systems. Iâ€™ll be tied up with bridge duty for a while longer and want everything in perfect working order.â€ 

â€œAye, Sir.â€ MÃ¼ller nodded sharply and left. 

Shifting uncomfortably in the Captainâ€™s chair, Malcolm looked around, relieved that everyone seemed intent on their jobs. He had always felt rather self-conscious sitting in Archerâ€™s place; this time it was almost unbearable. He glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. Little more than two hours had passed since he had left sickbay. Repairs to the nacelle were on schedule; the comm. system was back online. Nothing to do but bloody well sit on his hands and wait to get in touch with Soval. Malcolm longed for a shower and a little time alone in his quarters. He needed to regroup. But he was likely to be acting Captain for another few hours at least. 

Suddenly an instrument beeped.

â€œA ship is dropping out of warp, Sir,â€ Kim at tactical announced. 

Stopping himself from rushing to look over the manâ€™s shoulder, Malcolm rose nonetheless to his feet. â€œRecognise the configuration?â€ he asked. His voice was composed despite what he felt inside.

â€œItâ€™s Vulcan, Sir.â€

Malcolm, who had been ready to order a tactical alert, gave a silent sigh of relief. He turned to his left and said, â€œOn screen.â€ Too many young faces on the bridge, he thought grimly at the sight of Hoshiâ€™s and Tâ€™Polâ€™s replacements. 

The crewman at Communications nodded and complied, and the familiar shape of a Vulcan ship filled the viewscreen. â€œThey are hailing us, Lieutenant,â€ she added after a moment. 

â€œPut it through,â€ Malcolm replied, intrigued. A moment later the face of the very man they were looking for appeared. 

â€œLieutenant Reed,â€ Soval said, narrowing his eyes in a rare show of something, perhaps mild puzzlement. He probably thought Trip would be sitting in Archerâ€™s chair.

â€œAmbassador,â€ Reed replied, schooling his features to let nothing through - more Vulcan than even Sovalâ€™s. â€œWe were en route back to Vegor 2, to find you.â€

â€œAt impulse?â€ Soval asked, raising his eyebrows. â€œIt would have taken you a rather long time.â€

Malcolm clenched his jaw. Wasnâ€™t sarcasm another bloody emotion? â€œWe were fired upon by the Felesian ship,â€ he replied darkly. â€œSuffered damage to one nacelle.â€

Sovalâ€™s eyes flickered. â€œI did caution Commander Tucker against going after the Felesians,â€ he commented. â€œOf course he had to follow his volatile natureâ€¦â€

Malcolm was getting angry, but kept himself in check. He was good at it â€“ if he said so himself â€“ as good as any Vulcan. â€œI believe we need to talk,â€ he said levelly.

Soval paused. â€œWhere is Commander Tucker?â€

â€œHeâ€™s resting. He suffered a minor head injury.â€ Malcolm knew his tone was cold, but couldnâ€™t bring himself to regret it. 

â€œI wish to speak to the Commander in person.â€

â€œItâ€™s not a problem,â€ Malcolm replied tilting his head. â€œI will inform him right away.â€

â€œThen I suppose I have your permission to take a shuttle over to Enterprise, Lieutenant?â€ 

Malcolm nodded. â€œIâ€™ll have someone meet you at the starboard docking port.â€

Â§Â§Â§

They walked shoulder to shoulder down the corridor, towards the meeting room, in silence. Malcolm thought Trip still looked pale, but didnâ€™t mention it. He knew his friend could not allow himself a proper rest right now. Even Phlox had recognised, albeit reluctantly, that the Commanderâ€™s duties were more pressing than the possible consequences of working with a mild concussion. 

Hell - Malcolm silently cursed - if truth be told he too was beginning to feel fatigued; nervous energy could hold you on your feet only for so long. But he knew he wouldnâ€™t be able to sleep until...

â€œNice of him to show up, donâ€™t ya think?â€ Trip suddenly muttered sarcastically, interrupting his thoughts.

â€œYes, quite convenient,â€ Malcolm said, knowing Trip was referring to Soval. â€œAnd aboard a Vulcan vessel. I thought there werenâ€™t any orbiting Vegor 2.â€

Trip bit his lip pensively. â€œHmm. Donâ€™t forget, Vulcan ships are quite a bit faster than Enterprise. Might have been waitinâ€™ nearby.â€

They got to the turbo lift and Malcolm slowed almost to a halt; Trip, who hadnâ€™t, took another couple of steps before realising he was now walking alone. He stopped and turned to Malcolm with a questioning frown. 

â€œDonâ€™t you want me to go back to the bridge?â€ Malcolm asked, unsure of what he was expected to do.

â€œI thought youâ€™d want to grab a phase pistol and be my body guard,â€ Trip said, raising his eyebrows.

Malcolmâ€™s jaw dropped open, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. He hadnâ€™t anticipated that Soval could pose a threat. The man may be haughty and obnoxious when he wanted to, but the Vulcans were still allies. â€œIâ€¦ I had a security detail meet Soval at the docking port,â€ he managed eventually. â€œI ordered them to stand outside the meeting room, but if you prefer that Iâ€¦â€

â€œEasy, Malcolm,â€ Trip interrupted him, surprise clear in his blue eyes. â€œWhatâ€™s the matter with ya, canâ€™t you recognize a bit of ribbinâ€™?â€ Closing the space between them, Trip came to stand right in front of him and shook his head. â€œGee, you are scrambled, arenâ€™t ya?â€ he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. 

Malcolm felt like a bloody idiot. He should have known Trip was joking. The man always managed to, even in the direst circumstances. â€œIâ€™m fine,â€ he muttered. Raising his eyes to Trip, he saw that his words had floated away unheard. His friend was studying him with eyes that now looked quite worried.

â€œSureâ€¦â€ 

Tripâ€™s scrutiny was too close for comfort and Malcolm fidgeted. 

â€œWhoâ€™s on the bridge?â€ Trip suddenly asked him.

â€œTravis, and junior crewmen at tactical, science and comm.â€

â€œHow â€˜bout MÃ¼ller?â€

â€œI ordered him to the Armoury, to keep tactical systems in optimal working order.â€

Hands on his hips, Trip thought for a moment. â€œI donâ€™t think anyone will try and attack us now; not with a Vulcan ship nearby. Travis can handle the bridge for a little while. Come on, Lieutenant, letâ€™s hear what our pointy-eared friend has to say.â€

Malcolmâ€™s eyes tracked from Tripâ€™s still concerned eyes to the incongruous half smile he knew his friend was putting on to give him â€“ and perhaps also himself â€“ some confidence. He nodded, and they resumed walking down the corridor.

Â§Â§Â§

â€œCommander, Lieutenant.â€ At the sound of the door opening Soval turned from looking out of the porthole and composedly greeted Trip and Malcolm as they entered the meeting room. â€œI regret having to interrupt your rest, Commander,â€ he added. â€œLieutenant Reed told me about your injury. I trust it isnâ€™t serious.â€

They all converged at the centre of the room, but Trip made no offer to sit down at the table. â€œIâ€™m fine, Ambassador,â€ he replied in a tone that wasnâ€™t confrontational but could hardly be called warm. â€œBesides, itâ€™s not â€˜interruptinâ€™ my restâ€™ that you oughtta regret, but what has happened to Captain Archer and Subcommander Tâ€™Pol.â€

â€œIt was an unfortunate incident, which no one could have foreseen,â€ Soval replied firmly, if unperturbedly.

Trip narrowed his eyes. â€œStill. I hope youâ€™re here to give us some answers.â€ What he really hoped was that his tone had made it clear that they would take no beating around the bush. 

Sovalâ€™s expression became annoyingly condescending. â€œI am on a diplomatic mission, Commander. Iâ€™ll tell you only what I deem strictly necessary.â€

Exchanging a quick look with Malcolm, Trip read in his friendâ€™s eyes the same mounting fury he was experiencing. Before entering the room Malcolm had indeed grabbed a phase pistol from one of the security men stationed outside, and the thought briefly crossed Tripâ€™s mind that he might end up needing it after all. 

â€œWhy donâ€™t you start by tellinâ€™ us why you were meetinâ€™ a Doronite on Vegor 2,â€ Trip bit out.

â€œThat is not what I have come to discuss.â€ Eyebrows fully up in typical Vulcan style, Soval hugged his elbows.

Trip saw Malcolm cross his own arms in that well-known mannerism of his, as if to counter Sovalâ€™s stubbornness with some of his own. 

â€œAre the Doronites spying on the Felesians?â€ Reed asked outright.

Soval tilted his head towards the Lieutenant. His face didnâ€™t let anything through, but his silence spoke plenty, as far as Trip was concerned. â€œWhat have you Vulcans got to do with it?â€ Trip demanded. â€œAmbassador?â€ he insisted when Soval did not seem ready to provide an answer.

â€œWe are simply offering some technical advice,â€ the Vulcan admitted at length. â€œBut that does not concern Starfleet.â€

â€œAnd whatâ€™s your end of the bargain?â€ Reed pressed. His hand went automatically to rest on the pistol strapped to his leg, and Soval shot him a look that on a human face would have been described as scornful. 

â€œAre you thinking of resorting to violence to get your answers, Lieutenant?â€ he asked. He raised his chin. â€œI wouldnâ€™t advise that.â€

Trip bit back a sharp reply. His head hurt and his temper was being stretched, but he forced himself to remain in control. He wouldnâ€™t let this man provoke his anger only so heâ€™d be able to tell him he was â€˜volatileâ€™. â€œWhat are you Vulcans gettinâ€™ in return?â€ he re-phrased in case Malcolmâ€™s question had not been clear. He pinned Soval with a steely gaze.

â€œNothing.â€

Reed snorted and looked away, narrowing his eyes in frustration. â€œForgive me, but thatâ€™s a little hard to believe,â€ he answered in a low, sarcastic voice. 

For a moment Soval regarded them both; then he turned and went back to the porthole, latching his hands behind his back. â€œFelesians are rather temperamental people,â€ he said with a deep breath. â€œAs you have seen,â€ he added, glancing briefly over his shoulder. â€œThey are reported to have had rapid technologic advancement, in the few years since our only contact with them. They have the potential to become a danger to the quadrant. Doronites are the closest species, the first who will be in danger, should the Felesians decide to become expansionistic. Doronites believe that a fringe group of the Felesians might have just such an objective in mind.â€

Trip exchanged a look with Malcolm. â€œSo, if I understand this correctly, youâ€™re givinâ€™ the Doronites a few lessons on how to spy on their neighbours so that they may share with you whatever intelligence they get?â€ Trip scrunched up his face in disgust. â€œWhat are ya Vulcans, theâ€¦ the Big Brother of the galaxy?â€

The reference made Soval turn abruptly, brow creased in puzzlement, and Malcolm shot him a surprised look. 

â€œItâ€™s better to prevent a conflict than fight it, Commander,â€ Soval said. â€œBut I believe we should instead focus on how to get Captain Archer and Subcommander Tâ€™Pol back,â€ he added. â€œI had warned you against going after the Felesian ship, but of course your volatileâ€¦â€

â€œDonâ€™t you lecture me on my supposed volatile nature,â€ Trip cut him off, a bit more heatedly than he would have wanted. He mentally kicked himself - he had almost fallen into the trap and proven just what he wanted to dispute. Clamping down on his anger, he continued, â€œDid you really expect me to let that ship go off with the chance I might not be able to find it again?â€ 

â€œAnd what have you accomplished?â€ Soval retorted in that damn haughty voice of his. â€œYou placed your crew in danger and for what? Do you even know where that ship is now?â€

Trip clenched his jaw, slowly counting to ten. This man was driving him crazy. Especially, he thought grimly, because if he was honest there was some truth in what he was saying. He heard Malcolmâ€™s voice and was grateful the Lieutenant had stepped in. 

â€œIt appears they set a course back to Felesia,â€ Reed replied. â€œAt least that was the direction they were following when their warp trail disappeared from our sensors.â€

â€œI strongly advise you once again to let the Vulcans handle this,â€ Soval said firmly.

â€œDonâ€™t even think of it, Ambassador,â€ Trip replied without mincing his words. â€œIâ€™ve seen first hand how Vulcans handle rescue missions.â€

Soval took a couple of steps toward them. â€œListen to me, Commander Tucker. Enterprise, from what I understand, has no warp drive at the moment. Moreover, you have no technology to see through a cloak. We are better equipped to handle this rescue.â€

You can save them, or let your pride stand in the way. Words from another Vulcan, one he had quite unexpectedly come to consider a friend, suddenly flashed through Tripâ€™s mind. He turned to Malcolm, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted, Trip suspected more from tension and concern than from actual physical tiredness. His friendâ€™s gray gaze was deep, though, and as it often happened, silent communication passed between them. He could tell Malcolm thought Soval had a point.

â€œNo arguments there,â€ Trip finally replied. He watched as Sovalâ€™s features registered surprise, and was wickedly gratified at the notion that he might have made the man experience such an undesirable human emotion. 

â€œCommander,â€ Malcolm said in his deep voice, drawing Tripâ€™s attention again. â€œPermission to transfer aboard the Vulcan ship and assist in the rescue operations.â€ 

Malcolm was standing at attention and had such a staunch look in his eyes that Trip knew heâ€™d have a hard time denying him the request, had he even wanted to. He was glad to see Malcolmâ€™s determination. He had been more than a bit concerned about him, even though the Brit seemed to have a way of always bouncing back, no matter what.

â€œYour assistance is not required, Lieutenant,â€ Soval said, rousing Trip from his thoughts.

Tripâ€™s patience was running thin. â€œAmbassador, Lieutenant Reed and I will be goinâ€™ with you,â€ he said firmly. â€œThis is our Captain weâ€™re talkinâ€™ about. Our First Officer. You canâ€™t keep us out of this rescue mission.â€ 

Another shared glance with Malcolm confirmed that the Lieutenant was ready to back him up any way he had to.

Hell, Mal here might shoot you unconscious if youâ€™re not careful, he silently told Soval as he pinned him with his eyes.

A tense silence filled the room. 

â€œAmbassador,â€ Trip continued in a smooth voice, changing tactics. â€œWhen I leave this room Iâ€™ll be gettinâ€™ in contact with Admiral Forrest. I still have to inform him of what has happened. And I bet heâ€™ll agree with me that the Lieutenant and I must take part in the rescue operations.â€

To his utter satisfaction, Soval looked cornered. Trip doubted Forrest would let the High Command get away with keeping Starfleet blind as they retrieved their first Warp-5 vesselâ€™s Captain. Especially since said Captain happened to be Forrestâ€™s friend. And Soval certainly knew all that. 

The Vulcan heaved a deep breath and raised his chin. â€œVery well, then,â€ he reluctantly complied. He lifted his eyebrows. â€œI neednâ€™t remind you that the sooner we can start out the better.â€

â€œGive us forty-five minutes and weâ€™ll be ready to transfer to your ship,â€ Trip said. â€œEnterprise will follow as soon as their warp drive is back online,â€ he added, just to make it clear his ship was not going to be left behind either. 

â€œYou may wait for us here, Ambassador,â€ Malcolm said with a gesture that encompassed the table and chairs. â€œOr if you prefer, I can have you escorted to the Mess hall.â€ 

Trip smiled inwardly; he knew Malcolm was only making sure Soval got the message that he wasnâ€™t to return to the Vulcan ship without them. 

â€œEscorted, Lieutenant?â€ Soval enquired in slightly ironic tones. â€œLike a prisoner?â€

â€œLike an honoured guest,â€ Malcolm replied. Trip saw his mouth curve slightly upwards, but the smile didnâ€™t reach his eyes. 

â€œI see. Thank you, I will be fine here.â€

Â§Â§Â§

A moment later, Trip and Malcolm were outside the meeting room. 

â€œStay here and guard the Ambassador,â€ Malcolm instructed his security people, returning the borrowed phase pistol to its rightful owner. â€œHe is not to leave the ship.â€

â€œAye, Sir,â€ they replied sharply.

â€œHonoured guest?â€ Trip snorted, as they walked along the corridor. 

Malcolm darted him a look. â€œBig Brother?â€ he retorted in disbelief. â€œI thought you only read Superman.â€ 

â€œBig Brother is not a book,â€ Trip replied with a smirk. â€œIt was a program they had on TV at the end of the 20th century: a bunch of people would live together in a house and a spy camera would let you see everything they did.â€

Malcolmâ€™s eyes widened in horror. â€œI shouldâ€™ve known,â€ he muttered. â€œAnd there I thought you had actually expanded your cultural background to include some Orwellâ€¦â€

â€œOh yeah, right, Orwell. Iâ€™ve heard the name before.â€ Tripâ€™s chuckle died away as a stab of pain went through his temple. He hissed, bringing a hand to his head and grimacing. A restraining hand on his arm stopped him. 

â€œAre you certain youâ€™re well enough to go with us?â€ Malcolm asked, searching his gaze. â€œYouâ€™re not well â€“ and donâ€™t deny it. Even if you hadnâ€™t just groaned in pain itâ€™s written all over your face.â€ 

Trip huffed. â€œItâ€™s only a little headache. And I told ya: you, of all people, shouldnâ€™t lecture when it comes to sneakinâ€™ out of sickbay and returninâ€™ to duty ahead of time.â€

â€œWeâ€™re talking about going on a rescue, mission, Commander,â€ Malcolm said in a serious voice. â€œItâ€™s a lot different from sitting on the bridge or spending a few hours in the Armoury or Engineering.â€

The use of his rank was not lost on Trip. Malcolm was making this an official enquiry. He was probably also worried that he would have to keep an extra eye on him. 

â€œYour concern is noted, Lieutenant,â€ he replied just as formally. â€œBut you donâ€™t need to worry about me: Iâ€™ll be able to take care of myself.â€ 

Before Malcolm could resume walking Trip did the same and stopped him. â€œIâ€™m not the only one who hasnâ€™t been well,â€ he said. â€œHow about you?â€ he asked pointedly. â€œYou ok?â€

Malcolm hesitated, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. â€œTrip, Iâ€™ll tell you all about it, I promise,â€ he said hoarsely. He lowered his gaze to the floor. â€œThere just hasnâ€™t been the time.â€

â€œI didnâ€™t ask you that. I want to know how youâ€™re feelinâ€™,â€ Trip replied, wishing Malcolm would look up again. The answer would be in his eyes as much as in his words. In fact more in his eyes than in his words: Malcolm could hide behind unrevealing words and a controlled voice when he wanted too, but Trip had learnt to read his gaze quite well. 

Malcolm pursed his lips. It was a moment before he answered. In the end he did lift his gaze, though his words were just as sincere. 

â€œIâ€™m having some ups and downs,â€ he admitted quietly. â€œBut I wonâ€™t let anything get in the way of my professional conduct, trust me.â€ 

Trip nodded. â€œI do.â€ After a moment he added, â€œI have that call to make. Forrest needs to be informed of whatâ€™s going on. Meet me in forty minutes at the starboard docking port. And have your men escort Soval there.â€

â€œAye, Sir.â€

Â§ 7 Â§

Forty minutes were not very much time. Malcolm went straight to the Armoury, where he got phase pistols for Trip and himself, plus a few extra â€˜triflesâ€™ that might come in handy. He checked with MÃ¼ller about the state of Enterpriseâ€™s tactical systems, grateful he could count on this quiet man. The idea both he and Trip would be away made him more than a bit anxious: Travis would be left in charge without even Hoshi to back him up, so MÃ¼llerâ€™s reliable professionalism was a blessing. Malcolm knew Bernhard would look after the crew with the same dedication he himself would use.

Leaving the Armoury, Malcolm walked briskly to his quarters. Trying not to think how wonderful it would be to stretch out on his bunk, he undressed and took a quick shower. The hot water did somewhat ease his weariness, and some ten minutes later, shaved and with a fresh uniform, he was feeling, if not well-rested, at least a bit more human. Which was really a must, he mused, on a ship full of Vulcans.

Malcolm glanced at the time: twelve minutes left. Enough to pay a short visit to a friend.

Â§Â§Â§

Sickbay was quiet. The privacy curtain around Hoshiâ€™s bed was still drawn, and Malcolm looked around, unsure he could disturb Doctor Phloxâ€™s only patient. A moment later a friendly Denobulan face appeared from behind a partition.

â€œLieutenant, what can I do for you?â€ Phlox asked, his ever-present smile in place.

Malcolm took another few steps inside. â€œI came to see how Hoshi is, Doctor.â€

â€œAh, of course!â€ Phloxâ€™s intelligent and very blue eyes danced. â€œShe will be fine, not to worry. I treated some minor but extensive burns to her hands and arms. Sheâ€™ll have to be off duty for a few days, but will suffer no permanent damage.â€

Malcolm heaved a sigh of relief. â€œThatâ€™s good to know,â€ he murmured.

â€œShe slept for a while, under medication, but woke up just recently. Would you like to see her?â€

Phlox often liked to ask unnecessary questions, Malcolm thought, wondering if it was a Denobulan trait. 

â€œSo long as Iâ€™m not disturbing her.â€ 

â€œFor a few moments, it should be fine,â€ Phlox said. 

Malcolm nodded. â€œI need to meet Commander Tucker in about ten minutes, anyway.â€

â€œHmm, your rescue mission,â€ Phlox said, all cheerfulness gone from his voice. â€œI just gave the Commander a thorough check-up and something for his headache,â€ he added, leading Malcolm towards the privacy curtain but stopping at some distance from it. â€œHe seems to be fine, although I would have preferred to keep him under observation for another few hours.â€ 

Malcolm considered the words. Trip was as stubborn asâ€¦ well as himself, when it came to ignoring his injuries. â€œIt will take us a few hours anyway to reach the Felesians, Doctor,â€ he reassured him. â€œI will see to it that the Commander rests some more, and I will keep an eye on him.â€

â€œAh, yes, youâ€™re quite the expert on concussions, arenâ€™t you?â€ Phlox joked, his good mood back. â€œThank you, Mr. Reed. Thatâ€™s very thoughtful of you.â€ With a nod he opened the curtain and let Malcolm in.

Hoshi turned at the sound and her lips curved into a gentle smile. â€œMalcolm,â€ she said, â€œNice of you to visit.â€ She sounded a bit drowsy.

Malcolm approached the biobed, taking in her bandaged arms and slightly faraway expression. â€œLovely mummy disguise, Ensign. But itâ€™s not Halloween yet,â€ he joked quietly. 

Hoshi raised an arm and groaned, looking at it in disgust before lowering it limply on the sheet again. â€œNot being able to use oneâ€™s hands is something I wouldnâ€™t wish on my worst enemy.â€

Malcolm clenched his jaw to resist the urge to avert his gaze. â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ he murmured. 

Damn - the Captain, Tâ€™Pol, Trip, Hoshi... He suddenly felt as inadequate as when, as a child, his father would scrutinize him seemingly only to look for things that were in need of improvement. It was a feeling he had hoped belonged to the past, and its sudden resurface was displacing, as if two moments of his life had suddenly merged.

Hoshi reached out with a bandaged hand to touch his arm. â€œIt wasnâ€™t your fault. You did everything you could, Malcolm.â€ After a moment she added, â€œTrip stopped by a few minutes ago. He told me you are going after the Felesians, on the Vulcan ship.â€ 

Malcolm saw concern knit her lovely brow and put his own hand lightly over hers. â€œIâ€™ll bring them all back safely, I promise you,â€ he said, knowing in his heart he could not make such a promise, but wanting to reassure her.

â€œAnd yourself too,â€ Hoshi added, pinning him with her dark and darkened eyes.

Malcolm allowed himself a soft chuckle. â€œYes, Maâ€™am.â€ He felt warmed by the care the young linguist often showed for him. 

Hoshi scowled. â€œDonâ€™t joke. Promise you wonâ€™t place yourself in unnecessary danger.â€

â€œDo I look that rash, Ensign?â€ Malcolm asked with a playful frown.

â€œPromise.â€

Rolling his eyes Trip-Tucker-like, Malcolm complied. â€œAll right, Hoshi, I promise.â€

Hoshi heaved a deep breath. â€œI hope you and Trip will find a way to talk those people out of this madness.â€

â€œPerhaps,â€ Malcolm said. This time he did avert his eyes: good as he was at hiding his emotions, he wasnâ€™t certain his gaze wouldnâ€™t betray how little faith he had in such an eventuality. â€œI ought to go,â€ he added after a moment, trying to shape his features to a reassuring expression. â€œTrip is still my superior officer, canâ€™t make him wait.â€ He took her hand from his arm and placed it gently back on the bed.

Hoshi smiled but her eyes were shiny. She cleared her throat. â€œRight,â€ she choked out. â€œSee you soon, then.â€

â€œSee you soon,â€ he repeated, with a small grin.

Â§Â§Â§

They had dropped out of warp. He was sure of it. Tâ€™Pol must have noticed too, for she opened her eyes â€“ she had been meditating â€“ and looked at him inquisitively. 

â€œLooks like weâ€™ve arrived wherever weâ€™re supposed to arrive,â€ Archer said pensively. 

Hours had passed â€“ he was not sure how many, six or seven at least â€“ since those torpedoes had been launched, and they had no idea what had happened to Enterprise. But Archer knew the Felesian ship had not shaken from a single cannon or torpedo blow, and that alone had made him nervous. 

â€œIt is logical to think Enterprise would have withdrawn if the Felesian shipâ€™s weaponry were too powerful,â€ Tâ€™Pol said, pinning him with an intense gaze.

Archer was touched by the not so subtle attempt to cheer him up. â€œOh, no doubt â€“ provided they had a chance. But then you might have to review your calculations about the odds of us being rescued. They donâ€™t look very promising.â€

â€œCommander Tucker is very resourceful, Captain. Moreover, he is aâ€¦ persistent man.â€

â€œHa!â€ Archer didnâ€™t know whether to be amused or irritated; the border between the two, when it came to Tâ€™Pol, was ridiculously thin. â€œYou can say it, Subcommander: stubborn - stubborn. Itâ€™s not a four-letter word.â€

Of course Tâ€™Pol was unaffected by his tone. â€œI know how to spell â€˜stubbornâ€™, Captain. It does have more than four letters.â€ she replied with her natural aplomb. 

Archer gave a soft laugh. Indeed Tâ€™Pol could make him mad one moment and smile the next. â€œA four-letter word is a curse word,â€ he explained patiently. â€œMany swearwords in English happen to consist of four letters: damn, hell orâ€¦ well, never mind.â€

His Science Officer looked at him blankly for a moment. â€œI see,â€ she said at length, tilting her head and lifting one eyebrow.

â€œIâ€™m glad youâ€™re beginning to know our crew so well, Subcommander,â€ Archer teased her after a moment. â€œMalcolm, Tripâ€¦ Have you been spending more time with them, as I suggested?â€

â€œThat is not necessary. Commander Tuckerâ€™s stubbornness, as you like to call it, is not very difficult to observe. And his resourcefulness is well-known, not only to the Engineering crew.â€

â€œSo, what else have you noticed about Trip?â€ With nothing to do but wait, Archer decided he might as well try and take his mind off his worries. 

Tâ€™Pol shot him an unreadable look. â€œThe Commander has a keen mind, but his choices are often impulsive, dictated by his emotional sphere rather than by his rational one. He would undoubtedly gain if he were to take up meditation.â€

â€œTrip, meditating?â€ Archer chuckled. â€œYouâ€™d have to tie him down.â€ 

The door opened abruptly, startling him.

â€œCanâ€™t you be a bit more gentle?â€ he ranted to the two Felesians entering. â€œYou nearly gave me a heart attack.â€

Their captors ignored his words. While one of them stood near the door, weapon at the ready, the other roughly helped Tâ€™Pol off the floor. â€œCome with us,â€ he told them, proceeding to put their manacles back on.

â€œWhat do you want with us now?â€ Archer demanded. He got no answer. He watched as the armed Felesian dragged Tâ€™Pol by an arm towards the door, then felt a shove on his back and stumbled after her.

Â§Â§Â§

Forrest looked in anger at the screen before him, where a grayish alien with two rows of pin-like teeth was holding Archer and Tâ€™Pol, grabbing each by one arm, and smiling wickedly. Someone with teeth like that should make the favour of not baring them, he mulled.

â€œI believe you know these people.â€ 

It wasnâ€™t a question. 

â€œJon, are you both all right?â€ Forrest asked in concern, taking in Archerâ€™s stubble and tired face, and ignoring the alien.

â€œYes, Admiral,â€ Archer replied, raising a proud chin. â€œThey havenâ€™t harmed us.â€

Forrest felt his face get warm with restrained fury. â€œI talked to Commander Tucker, he explained...â€

â€œExcellent,â€ the Felesianâ€™s metallic voice interrupted him. â€œThen let me waste as little of your time as possible, Admiral. We obviously got the wrong people. You have forty-eight hours to find the right ones: a Vulcan diplomat and the Doronite he was to meet on Vegor 2. Then you will hand them over to us.â€

â€œThere is no evidence that what you are claiming is true,â€ a calm voice said, and a Vulcan took a step forward and came to stand beside Forrest. 

Forrest saw Archer ready to erupt and sympathised with the man. He felt like turning to where Sovalâ€™s aide was standing beside him and telling the irritating man to shut up. It was Vulcans whoâ€™d gotten them into this situation in the first place! Clenching his jaw, he kept his outburst corked and concentrated on the Felesian, who was speaking again.

â€œWe donâ€™t give a damn about evidence. We know what you Vulcans are up to,â€ the alien snarled. â€œYouâ€™re striking up a deal with the Doronites to spy on us. Itâ€™s time our Government opened their eyes to the truth.â€ The gray face turned to Forrest. â€œIf you care about these two youâ€™ll do what I said. Weâ€™ll release them only in exchange for the diplomats.â€

â€œAnd if we donâ€™t find them?â€ Forrest asked. â€œThe galaxy is pretty big.â€

â€œYouâ€™d better find them.â€ The alien showed his ugly smile again. â€œIf you canâ€™t figure it out, ask the Vulcan High Command.â€ His face went from nasty to nastier. â€œThey know how to find them.â€

Forrest straightened his shoulders. â€œWhat happens to them if we hand them over?â€

â€œThatâ€™s not your concern. You should worry about what will happen to Captain Archer and this Vulcan beauty if you donâ€™t. Iâ€™ll be in touch, Admiral.â€

With that the screen went blank.

Â§ 8 Â§

The Vulcan ship was quite a bit roomier than Enterprise, but the atmosphere on it was so hushed and serious that Trip felt even more ill-at-ease than he had anticipated. All those serious faces, which the same short, straight hair; all those blank eyes and controlled movements made him feel like he was at a funeral. He wondered what Malcolm thought about it, as they walked shoulder by shoulder down a large hallway being led to their quarters. Malcolm was certainly more composed, more Vulcan-like on the exterior than himself; but Trip knew the man did not lack a fun streak, having caught glimpses of it on more than one occasion. He was pretty sure the Lieutenant wasnâ€™t any fonder of their surroundings than he was.

â€œI promised Doctor Phlox that you would catch a few hours of rest, before we got into the thick of it,â€ Malcolm murmured, shooting him a quick glance.

â€œOh? And since when have you two guys teamed up?â€ Trip replied with a smile. A Reed-Phlox alliance seemed a preposterous idea.

There was a pause.

â€œSince youâ€™ve become as stubborn as a certain Brit I know in paying little attention to your recovery,â€ was the low, clipped reply.

Trip was surprised by the admission. 

The exchange, quiet as it had been, had obviously been picked up by the fine ears of the Vulcan leading them along, who turned to look at him. â€œDo you require the assistance of a Doctor?â€ he enquired.

â€œAh - no, thanks. Iâ€™m fine,â€ Trip said self-consciously. â€œI had a headache but it has passed.â€

They took a very fast lift down a couple of decks and after a few more meanderings their guide finally stopped in front of two doors. He raised a hand to a round device, without touching it, and one of them swished open. Then he did the same with the other. 

â€œAmbassador Soval will be meeting you for dinner in four hours,â€ the Vulcan said, turning to face them. â€œSomeone will come and show you the way. Should you need anything, there is a comm. link on the desk.â€

â€œLook, I donâ€™t mean to be rude,â€ Trip said with a tense smirk, â€œBut we havenâ€™t come on a holiday cruise. We have lots to discuss with Ambassador Soval. And it would beâ€¦â€

Grey eyebrows shot up. â€œAs I said, the Ambassador will speak to you over dinner.â€ 

With that the man bowed his head parsimoniously and left.

Tripâ€™s gaze hardened. â€œDamn them,â€ he said, watching the Vulcan move away and not caring if he might overhear him.

â€œCommander.â€

â€œIf they think Iâ€™m gonna stand by while they keep us in the dark, they better think again. Iâ€¦â€

â€œTrip!â€

â€œWhat?â€ Trip refocused irritated eyes on Malcolm.

â€œIâ€™ve been going without sleep for longer than I care to admit, and you suffered a concussion: four hours of rest are not such a bad idea.â€

Trip noticed once again the lines of exhaustion on Malcolmâ€™s face. Heaving a calming breath he raised a hand to his own tired eyes. â€œI suppose youâ€™re right,â€ he relented.

Â§Â§Â§

The target was ridiculously easy. He could have hit it blindfolded. Malcolm raised his weapon and targeted the manâ€™s broad shoulders. A slight pressure on the trigger and the figure crumpled to the floor. The hostage cried out in fright, then turned around, hands to her face, stunned at the sight of her stunned captor unconscious at her feet. She was neither particularly young nor particularly beautiful, but she had something special about her. Malcolm drew a deep breath and lowered the pistol, relaxing his stance. 

Gasping, Malcolm sat up straight in bed, disoriented. Where in the bloody hell was he? He stared at his unfamiliar surroundings, which the semidarkness was making even more unsettling. The Vulcan ship. His heart was so loud in his ears he was sure any crewman passing outside his cabin, with their fine hearing, would be able to hear it. 

Damn, damn, damn, he cursed as he let himself fall back on the bed again, releasing a slow breath. Was it possible he couldnâ€™t even catch four bleedinâ€™ hours of uninterrupted sleep? He lay still, unable to concentrate on anything but the rhythm of his heart banging away unmercifully against his ribcage, until it gradually returned to normal. 

Finally, with a long-suffering sigh, he got up and glanced at the time â€“ still one hour before their meeting with Soval. Hoping Vulcans did their morning ablutions much the same way as humans, he went into the bathroom. It wasnâ€™t long since he had showered on Enterprise, but he was determined to try and drown the ghosts that were haunting him. That was provided he could figure out the alien fixtures, he thought with a smirk as he glanced at them. 

A light knock on his door made him turn around. He stalled for one brief moment, wondering who it might be, then went to investigate whether he was at all able to let whoever was calling in. The round deviceâ€¦ He raised a hand to it, not sure what actually triggered it, if body heat or something more specific. For all he knew the Vulcans might have locked them in. Lo and behold, the door opened. 

â€œNot sleepinâ€™ either, huh?â€ Trip drawled, leaning with his shoulder on the wall just outside, arms crossed over his chest.

â€œJust woke up,â€ Malcolm replied, trying to sound rested. â€œCome in,â€ he added quietly, seeing someone coming down the corridor. â€œI havenâ€™t checked the room yet for listening devices, but itâ€™s still cosier than the hallway.â€

Trip snorted. â€œCosy? If your room is anythinâ€™ like mine Iâ€™d say itâ€™s as cosy as a morgue. Sterile, is more like it,â€ he muttered as he entered. â€œEven Tâ€™Polâ€™s quarters are better than this,â€ he added, looking around himself.

Malcolm managed to make the door close again, and turned. Trip was standing in the middle of the cabin, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor. â€œWhatâ€™s on your mind?â€ Malcolm asked, recognising the signs of worry on the usually relaxed Southerner. â€œHave you rested at all?â€ he enquired as he studied him for any unwanted symptoms.

Tripâ€™s eyes darted up and sideways. â€œOh, come on, Malcolm, give me a break, will ya?â€ After a moment his face twisted into a grimace. â€œItâ€™s thatâ€¦ I donâ€™t like this. We have no control over the situation on this ship.â€

â€œIâ€™m afraid we had no choice,â€ Malcolm said grimly. â€œEven if we had waited for Enterprise to get her Warp drive back online, weâ€™d have had no way of seeing through the Felesiansâ€™ cloak. I donâ€™t fancy engaging in another fire fight with an invisible enemy.â€

Trip sighed. â€œI just hope Soval lets us have a say in the rescue plan. If he wanted to tie our hands he wouldnâ€™t have a very difficult time.â€

A buzzing sound made them both turn to the desk. 

Trip raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Malcolm went to the desk and studied the comm. link for a moment, before shrugging and pressing a random button. â€œLieutenant Reed,â€ he said tentatively.

â€œLieutenant, this is Ambassador Soval. Is Commander Tucker with you?â€ 

â€œWhatâ€™s up, Ambassador?â€ Trip butted in. 

â€œI have Admiral Forrest on the line. I will send someone to fetch you.â€

â€œUnderstood,â€ Malcolm said, his eyes locked with Tripâ€™s.

The Engineer frowned. â€œI just spoke to the Admiral a few hours ago. What could he want now?â€

Â§Â§Â§

â€œUnacceptable.â€ Soval held his head up in defiance.

â€œIs the Doronite even on board?â€ Trip asked, pondering the information Forrest had just disclosed.

Soval wavered. â€œAs a matter of fact he is,â€ he finally replied. â€œOur business deal, as you might recall, was interrupted. 

â€œYour business deal has placed my people in danger, Ambassador,â€ Forrest said tautly. He took a steadying breath. â€œLook, we are not asking that you deliver yourselves in the hands of these terrorists,â€ he continued. â€œBut we canâ€™t ignore their requests. You need to develop a strategy... Lieutenant Reed?â€ he asked, shifting his gaze to the Armoury Officer.

â€œSir, I have almost no elements to develop one with. I know virtually nothing of the Felesian ship. How many people are on board, the layout of the vessel...â€

â€œI will show you the layout of a Felesian vessel of that class,â€ Soval said. â€œThe Doronites have shared their information with us.â€

Trip huffed. â€œWell, what the hell were you waitinâ€™ for?â€ 

â€œCommander,â€ Forrest said in a stern tone. â€œI trust you will do your best to collaborate with Ambassador Soval.â€

â€œAye, Sir,â€ Trip replied dutifully. 

â€œVery well.â€ Forrest pinned Soval with his gaze. â€œAnd I also trust that you, Ambassador, will not keep anything from the Commander and Lieutenant.â€ 

Soval narrowed his eyes. â€œOf course not, Admiral. It would be an illogical course of action.â€

â€œKeep me informed, gentlemen. Good luck,â€ Forrest finished, locking eyes with Trip.

After the screen had gone blank Soval turned to the Starfleet Officers. â€œWe have picked up the warp trail of the Felesian vessel,â€ he informed them.

Trip raised his eyebrows in disbelief. â€œAlready?â€ 

â€œOur sensors are more sophisticated, Commander, and our ship quite a bit faster than Enterprise.â€

â€œHow long before we reach it?â€ Reed asked.

â€œThey are still headed for Felesia; no more than eight hours.â€

Reed pursed his lips. â€œThen weâ€™d better get down to work, Ambassador.â€

Â§Â§Â§

It had taken a lot of discussing and more patience than Trip thought he had, but in the end they had managed to hatch a plan. They would stop outside the firing range of the Felesian ship and hail them. Soval would use his best diplomatic skills; if everything failed, though, he would pretend to yield and go ahead with the hostage exchange while Trip and Malcolm would be beamed aboard the enemy vessel. Soval had assured them he had a way to transport them undetected. The Ambassador had wanted them to agree on taking along a couple of Vulcan security officers, but Malcolm had engaged in a battle of logic which, to Tripâ€™s surprise, he had actually won. The Felesian ship, to the best of their knowledge, was manned by no more than 6-8 people, and Malcolm had firmly maintained that the fewer people were transported, the smaller the chance they would be detected. In the end Soval â€“ incredibly â€“ had relented.

Trip reluctantly turned off the shower and stepped out of it. He could have stayed under the steamy water forever. Toweling off, he tried not to think of the mission ahead, but his mind wouldnâ€™t hear of it. There was a tight knot in his gut and he wondered not for the first time if he shouldnâ€™t actually let a Vulcan security officer go with Malcolm in his place. Although he was a fairly good shot â€“ if he said so himself â€“ a rescue mission wasnâ€™t exactly his expertise. He wanted the best person to be there for Malcolm. On the other hand he didnâ€™t love the idea of placing the Captainâ€™s and Tâ€™Polâ€™s lives in the hands of an unknown Vulcan. In his heart he knew he was the best person for the job, but he wanted to hear it said from the Lieutenant too. He was only glad that they had finally heard from Enterprise. Their Warp drive was back online and they were en route to rendezvous with them: their ETA was in about twelve hours.

He was zipping up his uniform when his doorbell rang.

Malcolm didnâ€™t look quite his usual self, Trip realized as he studied the taut bundle of muscles that entered his room. The Lieutenant rarely let the anxiety he felt show. Trip was used to seeing him calm under all circumstances. He didnâ€™t like what he was seeing now, and his concern went up another notch. 

â€œHere is your phase pistol, Commander,â€ Malcolm said very formally. 

Another telltale sign. Trip knew that when Reed resorted to rank, especially when the two of them were alone like now, he was definitely up tight. 

â€œAnd a second charge cell.â€ 

Silently holding out his hand, Trip felt a weight fall into it. His eyes were still on his friend: if it werenâ€™t for the lines on his face, he looked as pristine as if he were just beginning a shift on Enterprise. But then again, propriety and form were Malcolmâ€™s favourite hiding places when he felt vulnerable. They were this Armoury Officerâ€™s armour to fend off prying eyes and minds. Trip refocused on Malcolmâ€™s voice.

â€œWe also have a few stun grenades and some small explosives, but I think Iâ€™d better hold on to those,â€ Malcolm was saying in his clipped accent. 

â€œBe my guest,â€ Trip murmured. 

Malcolm became absorbed checking his various pockets - something Trip was sure he had already done several times.

â€œMalcolmâ€¦â€ Trip ventured after a moment. 

He saw him stop in mid-action and turn. 

â€œAre you sure you wouldnâ€™t rather have a Vulcan security officer with ya on this mission?â€ Trip asked tentatively. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. â€œIâ€™m an Engineer, for Peteâ€™s sake. Iâ€¦ Iâ€™m just not convinced Iâ€™ll be the best person to help ya,â€ he finished with a grimace.

Malcolm finished zipping up the arm pocket heâ€™d been checking and studied him for a long moment. â€œYou arenâ€™t comfortable coming?â€ he asked quietly. 

Trip raked a hand through his still damp hair. â€œItâ€™s not that. Iâ€™m not afraidâ€¦â€ He jerked his head sideways. â€œWell, I am, just a little, but thatâ€™s normal I guess. Thatâ€™s not my point. My point is: who is the best person to go with you: an engineer or a security officer?â€ His voice tightened. â€œThis mission must not fail.â€ 

That earned him a self-conscious glance, and Trip kicked himself. The last bit had not come out quite the way he had intended.

Malcolm took a long time to answer, but when he did he looked sure of what he was saying.

â€œTrip, I trust you, not a Vulcan person I havenâ€™t even met before,â€ he said darkly. He crossed his arms over his chest. â€œYour engineering skills for all we know might come in handy. And besides: in a situation like the one weâ€™re about to face, the team is more important than the individuals. Iâ€™d rather have with me someone I can rely on, who can â€˜read meâ€™.â€

Trip felt instantly relieved. â€œAlright,â€ he replied after a moment. Grinning, he added, â€œReading Reed is my specialty. Count on me, Lieutenant.â€ 

Â§ 9 Â§

The tingling sensation was stronger than the times he had transported off Enterprise. The Vulcan transporter must be more powerful, Malcolm realized.

As he had feared, diplomacy had failed. Things, in fact, had gone from bad to worse. The Felesians had given them a narrow deadline, threatening to kill the hostages, so he and Trip had been beamed aboard the Felesian vessel while Soval started fake negotiations to carry out the hostage exchange. The Ambassador was going to try and stall things as long as possible, to give the Starfleet officers enough time to find Archer and Tâ€™Pol. The Vulcan shipâ€™s scanners had picked up human and Vulcan biosigns, but had not been able to pinpoint their exact position on the ship or lock onto them. Of course, Malcolm mulled wryly. It would have been far too simple to have been able to transport our people off.

Checking around him, Malcolm saw that Trip too had re-materialised and was standing beside him. He put an arm across Tripâ€™s chest and flattened the both of them against the bulkhead. He could feel Tripâ€™s heart pounding, beating a fierce counterpoint to his own accelerated pulse. At least the rush of adrenaline had given him a welcome feeling of energy. He felt ready to do what he had come to do. 

They stayed like that for a few seconds, listening for any noises signaling people approaching. When he was certain that they had not been detected, Malcolm relaxed his stance and let go of his friend. 

The Felesian vessel was a little jewel. Incredibly well-armed and advanced for its size, it had two decks. According to the schematics Soval had showed them, the lower deck housed the engine room, armoury and bridge. They had all agreed that it was likely Archer and Tâ€™Pol were being held somewhere on the upper level, so that is where they had been sent. Malcolm saw they had re-materialized midway around its central corridor. They knew that the lift and crew quarters were in the front section; cargo bays and a small lounge room towards the back. 

They both silently checked their scanners. Three Felesian biosigns, with those of Archer and Tâ€™Pol, vaguely registered on Malcolmâ€™s, but there was again no way to tell where exactly each of them was located. Something in this ship scrambled their readings. 

Trip raised his chin in a silent enquiry, and Malcolm pointed just as silently to the back, glad he didnâ€™t have an all-logic Vulcan with him who would start analyzing and questioning his every decision.

To be honest, his choice to investigate the back was only a guess, but an educated one: from the little Malcolm had seen of these Felesians, they didnâ€™t seem the kind of people who would make their hostagesâ€™ ride a comfortable one. He might be wrong, but heâ€™d be more willing to bet they had thrown them in a cargo bay rather than accommodate them in quarters. 

They began to move along the corridor. It was well lit and not very large. Malcolm silently prayed no one would come their way, for there was no way they could avoid a confrontation, no hiding place.

Stopping in front of the first door, Trip knelt down to check its locking mechanism, while Malcolm stood watch beside him. The door opened with a soft clicking sound, and as Malcolm refocused his attention on it the Engineer straightened up and leant against the bulkhead, weapon at the ready. Trip might not be security, Malcolm thought as he watched him take position, but he certainly knew what was expected of him. No way would he have preferred a Vulcan for this job. Heâ€™d rather take his chances with a friend he could trust. 

As Trip kept his eyes peeled for anyone coming their way, Malcolm peeked inside the room, ready for action. A moment later he re-emerged into the corridor shaking his head lightly. 

The next door was more of a challenge. â€œTold you I might need an Engineer,â€ Malcolm whispered as Trip worked on the lock. He saw his friend grin. 

They repeated the role-shift. Nothing.

As they moved on, Malcolm felt his tension mount. He had been more anxious than usual prior to starting out on this mission. He had felt the pressure of having to undo his possible mistake on Vegor 2. Now that he was in the thick of it, the adrenaline and his training were undoubtedly helping him, but a sense of unease still lingered.

They knew the next door was the lounge room. They must be careful. With or without the hostages, the three Felesians were likely to be in there.

Suddenly the door burst open and a man came through it. He turned their way and froze. Malcolm didnâ€™t waste any time and stunned him before he had a chance to recover from his surprise. 

â€œIn the last room,â€ Malcolm whispered tautly to Trip. They quickly dragged the unconscious man inside it, and Malcolm fused the lock shut with his phase pistol. One less Felesian to contend with, he thought with a silent sigh. Although it remained to be see if anyone had had picked up his pistolâ€™s fire.

They passed the lounge room without incident this time. There were two more rooms on the other side. Trip quickly knelt in front of one and started working. 

Please be it, Malcolm silently prayed. It took longer to get the better of the lock, but when Malcolm peeked inside the cargo bay and saw the Captain and Tâ€™Pol sitting in a corner, relief nearly made him dizzy. â€œBingo,â€ he whispered to Trip. They hastened to their crewmates. 

â€œNice seeing you guys,â€ Archer murmured, a smile lighting up his slightly bearded face. 

â€œSame here, Captâ€™n,â€ Trip muttered back as he helped him to his feet. 

â€œGood to see you, Sir, Subcommander.â€ Malcolm nodded and helped Tâ€™Pol. Then he unzipped his pocket, taking out a Vulcan communicator. â€œReed to Tâ€™mir,â€ he paged. There was no reply. â€œThese bloody cargo bays somehow interfere with scanners and communication,â€ he said tautly. â€œWe must get back to the transport location.â€ 

Trip was fuddling with Archerâ€™s manacles, so Malcolm urged him, â€œLeave that, Commander. There is no time for it now.â€

Stealing a cautious look outside, Malcolm saw that the coast was clear and started leading the party down the corridor. They made it past the lounge. Each step was taking them closer to safety, and Malcolm was actually beginning to think they had pulled it off when the lift door opened and three armed Felesians emerged from it.

â€œAgainst the wall,â€ Malcolm shouted, as he crouched and targeted the first one. The man fell, but laser fire came zapping their way. Haste makes waste, Malcolm thought as the beams missed them, scorching the bulkheads behind. Before he or Trip could aim again, however, the remaining Felesians had taken cover back inside the lift. 

Malcolm unzipped a pocket and produced a stun grenade. He timed it to three seconds; the lift was far enough that they wouldnâ€™t be affected. He warned his crewmates. â€œGet back!â€ then armed the grenade and threw it, flattening against the wall. 

The explosion was small but effective. Malcolm turned his face away from it, just in time to see two other aliens storm out of the lounge door behind his crewmates. The first one was already aiming his pistol. 

â€œTrip!â€ Malcolm cried out. In a split second he sprang up from his crouched position and pushed the Engineer out of harmâ€™s way, falling with him. Twisting frantically, Malcolm saw that Trip had already recovered and had taken the legs out from under his assailant, so he turned to face the second Felesian. The brief distraction, however, cost him dearly: a hard kick to his side sent him crashing against the wall, taking his breath away and making his pistol fall out of his hand. With horror, Malcolm saw the alien raise his own weapon and turn to Archer, who was still manacled and had crouched in front of Tâ€™Pol to protect her. 

A wave of despair threatened to drown him, but he dammed it back with a wall of anger. Not again. He had promised heâ€™d bring them all home safely. Pushing off the wall, he threw himself against the Felesian. He landed hard on him, and as they both fell to the floor pain erupted in his side. 

They struggled. His side was killing him, distracting him, and the man was strong, or perhaps it was he who was weak. They rolled, and the Felesian was now on top of him. Malcolm grunted and gritted his teeth against the pain that was spreading through his whole trunk. The kick must have cracked a rib or two, he mulled as he stared into the cold eyes of his enemy, so very close, so very threatening. His strength was failing him; he felt as if he was moving in slow motion. The world was getting fuzzy. Bloody hell, was he going to fail again? No, he wouldnâ€™t give up, he had promised Hoshiâ€¦ But in his heart he knew this was a lost battle.

Suddenly the man went limp on top of him, and he knew it hadnâ€™t been his doing. He too abandoned himself, closing his eyes and struggling to breathe under the sudden weight. A moment later, thankfully, this had been lifted off him and a hand was on his shoulder. Someone was calling him, Trip perhaps. Yes, Trip. Or was it Archer? Both. He wasnâ€™t sure; his senses were not being very helpful. Unconsciousness was calling him, and he longed to let himself go; but the voices were getting frantic, holding him back, anchoring him to reality. With an effort he opened his eyes and, blinking a couple of times to clear his blurred vision, managed to focus on Tripâ€™s and Archerâ€™s worried faces. He wanted to lift his head but failed miserably; someone placed a strong hand behind his shoulders, supporting him. Glancing down he saw a stain grow larger on his uniform. 

Â§Â§Â§

Trip leant against the raised back of his biobed. Sickbay on the Tâ€™Mir was twice as large as on Enterprise and its walls, ceiling and floor were a strange hue of green which, to the human eye, looked definitely sickening. Turning on his side, he glanced at the form sleeping on the next bed and smiled, anticipating Malcolmâ€™s comments. Phlox might be excessively cheerful, but a look at the Vulcan doctor and you could fall into depression. 

Not that the man hadnâ€™t been excellent. His quick and expert intervention had saved Malcolmâ€™s life. The damn Brit, just for a change, had given them a good scare. He had been transported off the Felesian ship not a minute too soon. Trip felt a shiver run through him at the memory of Malcolm inevitably fading and losing his fight to unconsciousness while he and the Captain tried unsuccessfully to keep him awake. Lucky Tripâ€™s blood type was of a compatible type with Malcolmâ€™s, for on the Vulcan ship there wasnâ€™t a drop of human blood to be found, and Enterprise was still a few hours away. 

The Doctor had insisted that Trip rest, and to be honest he couldnâ€™t but agree with him. Tension, little sleep and donating blood didnâ€™t leave you feeling in great shape. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off, comfortable in the knowledge that they were finally all out of danger.

When he next opened his eyes it was to meet a familiar grey gaze. He saw it check him over and track back to his face. 

â€œWere you injured?â€ Malcolm eventually asked. His voice was low, but stronger than Trip had expected.

â€œNah, a certain Security Officer I know made sure I wasnâ€™t,â€ Trip replied with a smile. â€œJust takinâ€™ it easy after dumpinâ€™ half my blood into that pouch,â€ he added, jerking his chin.

Malcolmâ€™s eyes trailed to the bag suspended above him; then to the IV tube feeding into his arm. â€œOh.â€ He looked away pensively for a moment then gave a soft huff of a laugh.

â€œWhat?â€ 

â€œContaminating my Reed blood?â€ Malcolm quietly joked, raising his eyebrows.

Trip snorted and rolled his eyes. â€œDonâ€™t tell your dad.â€

â€œGood grief, no.â€ There was a pause, and Malcolmâ€™s face turned serious again. â€œThanks.â€

â€œJust returninâ€™ the favour.â€ 

Trip sat up and turned to his friend, letting his legs dangle off the bed. â€œSo, how are you feelinâ€™?â€ he enquired. He saw Malcolmâ€™s mouth dart a small smile. 

â€œFine, of course.â€

â€œOf course.â€

â€œThe Captain and Tâ€™Pol?â€

Trip shrugged. â€œA bit tired, but theyâ€™re ok. The Captâ€™n is tryinâ€™ to make Vulcans, Doronites and Felesians come to an understandinâ€™, of course.â€

â€œOf course.â€

Malcolm looked around himself. â€œVomit green. Lovely colour for a sickbay. Do you think they might have chosen it so it blends in withâ€¦â€ He trailed.

Trip chuckled. â€œYaâ€™re disgustinâ€™.â€ 

â€œI was going to say the skin of ill Vulcans,â€ Malcolm said in mock offence.

â€œSure.â€

There was a sound of steps, and they both turned to the stern Vulcan face of the shipâ€™s Doctor.

â€œLieutenant Reed, I am Doctor Sedek,â€ the man said as he began to check the IV flow. â€œHow are you feeling?â€

â€œIâ€™mâ€¦â€ 

Trip shot Malcolm a challenging look and he caught himself. â€œIâ€™ve been better,â€ he amended. â€œA little weak, I suppose.â€

â€œThat is to be expected.â€ The Doctor ran an instrument over his patient, lingering over his right side, while Malcolm followed his movements. â€œI gave you a dose of analgesic not very long ago. Are you in any pain?â€

â€œNo. In fact, I donâ€™t even exactly know whatâ€™s wrong with me, come to think of it.â€

Doctor Sedek raised his eyebrows. â€œYou suffered a severe particle weapon injury. You were shot at close quarters, and lost a considerable amount of blood. It was fortunate that I could use some of Commander Tuckerâ€™s for a transfusion.â€ 

â€œWell, thank you for all you have done, Doctor,â€ Malcolm said sincerely.

With a curt nod the physician re-pocketed his instrument. â€œPress this button if you need anything,â€ he said pointing to the headboard. â€œI will be back later. I advise you to sleep.â€ With that he left.

When he was sure Sedek was out of hearing, Trip commented, â€œFun guy, ainâ€™t he?â€

Malcolm groaned. â€œI never thought Iâ€™d say this, but I wouldnâ€™t mind a bit of Phloxâ€™s irritating cheerfulness right now.â€ 

Trip saw him stifle a yawn and close his eyes, and without even a menagerie to provide some background noise silence fell.

Donâ€™t tell me youâ€™re gonna follow your doctorâ€™s orders, Mr Reed, Trip silently wondered. He watched his friend for a couple more minutes; Malcolm was breathing slowly and evenly, and thinking he had fallen asleep, Trip prepared to lie back down again himself. Soft-spoken words stopped him.

â€œIt was on one of my first assignments, after graduating from Starfleet.â€ 

Malcolm opened his eyes briefly as if to make sure Trip was still there; then closed them again. 

Trip knew instantly what Malcolm meant to talk about. This conversation had been put off long enough, and he suspected his friend was as eager to get it off his chest as he was to hear it. He waited in silence for him to continue. 

â€œYou might have heard of the incident,â€ Malcolm went on quietly. â€œIn fact, you certainly did. It was during one of the early press conferences to present the NX-01 project. I was part of the plainclothes security detail.â€

Trip frowned. â€œYou donâ€™t mean to tell meâ€¦â€ He cut himself off when he saw Malcolm open his eyes, and the bare emotion in them. â€œSorry,â€ he murmured. â€œGo ahead.â€

â€œSo you do remember,â€ Malcolm croaked out.

Trip thought for a moment. â€œAll I really know is that one of the conferences suffered an anti-space program terrorist attack. There were some casualties,â€ he carefully replied.

â€œYes,â€ Malcolm said with a barely audible huff. â€œStarfleet managed to keep the details under wraps toâ€¦ protect me, as it were. Iâ€™d be surprised if even Captain Archer knew more than you do.â€ He clenched his jaw and added softly, â€œFour people dead. Fifteen injured; five seriously.â€ 

Malcolmâ€™s eyes darted away, and Trip flinched not only at the grim piece of information but also at the realisation that the experience must have been a harrowing one. He waited patiently, giving his friend the time he needed to gather his thoughts and perhaps his courage. 

â€œThe man was holding a journalist hostage,â€ Malcolm eventually continued. â€œHe had his back to me, just likeâ€¦â€ He left the thought unspoken, and Trip felt an icy knot form in his gut. An image of Tâ€™Pol and the Felesian flashed through his mind. 

â€œIt was such an easy target.â€ Malcolm brought a hand to his eyes and shook his head. â€œSo bloody easy. I didnâ€™t have to think twice. Took aim and pressed the trigger, and the terrorist fell to the ground. The journalist â€“ a woman â€“ cried out in fright; then looked wide-eyed at her captor, lying at her feet.â€ 

There was a pause.

â€œAnd I relaxed my stance, feeling damn good about myself.â€ 

Anger had seeped into the last words. Malcolm removed the hand and opened troubled eyes. â€œI can see her as if it were today,â€ he choked out. â€œThat woman is etched in my mind. Her straight, dark hair; her plain but striking features; the relief dawning on themâ€¦â€ His voice died in his throat and he pursed his lips to lock in his emotions.

Trip slid off the biobed and went to stand by him. â€œWhat went wrong?â€ he enquired gently, bracing for the answer.

Malcolmâ€™s muscles hardened and his voice went deeper. â€œThere were two other terrorists mingled in the crowd. They began shooting and all hell broke lose,â€ he murmured. â€œShe, the woman, was the first to fall. I watched her surprise turn into horror as she brought her hands to her stomach. I...â€ His voice faltered again and he looked away.

Trip reached out to touch him. â€œHey,â€ he said when he managed to find his voice. â€œYou couldnâ€™t have known.â€ 

It took Malcolm a long moment to regain enough control over his emotions to face him again. â€œNo, I suppose not,â€ he eventually murmured. With a sarcastic huff he added, â€œThere was an inquest, and no charges were filed against me. Four people dead, yet I had done well.â€ 

â€œAh, Malcolmâ€¦â€ Trip just squeezed his arm, not knowing what to say, and they were in silence for a while.

Finally Trip let out a low whistle. â€œWell, I can see how that couldâ€™ve affected you on Vegor 2.â€ Seeking his friendâ€™s gaze he added softly, â€œIâ€™m sorry I got mad at ya.â€

â€œYou couldnâ€™t have known.â€ 

Malcolmâ€™s eyes were still stormy, and Trip could tell there was more on his friendâ€™s mind. â€œThereâ€™s somethinâ€™ else, isnâ€™t there?â€ he asked him outright. 

Malcolm swallowed then rolled slowly onto his back, flinching slightly in discomfort. â€œIt might have looked like I froze down there, Trip,â€ he said, eyes on the ceiling, â€œBut I actually made a decision. A debated one, but nonetheless a decision.â€ With a grimace he added, â€œAnd Iâ€™ve been wondering ever since whether it wasnâ€™t the wrong one yet again. Maybe if I had obeyed your order and stunned the man, we could have avoided a lot of trouble.â€ 

Trip had no doubts in his mind. â€œYou did the right thing, Lieutenant,â€ he said firmly, using the rank for stress. â€œAfter what you told me, I wouldâ€™ve done the same. It would have been too risky to take that man down.â€ 

Malcolm shot him a look in which relief and gratitude were clear. Then his eyes drooped closed. He looked totally drained, but tension seemed to melt slowly away from him, and under the hand he still had on his arm Trip was glad to feel his muscles finally relax. 

â€œIâ€™m only relieved we could get our people back unharmed,â€ Malcolm mumbled.

â€œYou did, mostly,â€ Trip corrected him. â€œOn that Felesian ship you saved both my skin and the Captâ€™nâ€™s, Malcolm.â€ 

Malcolmâ€™s eyes cracked open again. â€œAnd who saved mine?â€ he asked with a frown. â€œThe last I know I was losing my fight with that Felesian.â€

â€œYours truly,â€ Trip admitted a little self-consciously. He grinned. â€œAfter all, I had to prove I wasnâ€™t there only to open doors.â€

Malcolm heaved a careful breath. â€œWell, Iâ€™m glad I didnâ€™t listen to you and end up bringing along that Vulcan security officer in your place.â€ 

The words were undoubtedly meant as a compliment, but Tripâ€™s heart clenched. â€œActually when I saw you bloodied and barely conscious I was sure I shouldâ€™ve insisted that you take him instead,â€ he said tautly, looking away.

â€œNonsense. You did everything right.â€

Trip turned back to the firmly-spoken words. 

â€œAnd I rather think we make a good team, you and I,â€ Malcolm said with a tired half smile. 

Tripâ€™s own lips curved up. â€œMaybe. But youâ€™ve got to give the Captâ€™n a break, Malcolm. You keep makinâ€™ the man worried sick,â€ he joked, to lighten the mood.

â€œOh, really. Itâ€™s quite the opposite, Iâ€™m afraid.â€ 

Malcolmâ€™s eyes had drooped closed again, and weariness was rounding off his typical sharp accent. Patting his arm Trip said, â€œI have a feelinâ€™ this Vulcan Doc doesnâ€™t take kindly to disobeyinâ€™ patients. You better get some rest.â€

â€œNot a problem,â€ Malcolm mumbled, already drifting off.

Â§Â§Â§

â€œStop that, Malcolm,â€ Hoshi begged, trying to breathe in between giggles. â€œMy side hurts.â€ 

â€œBut you injured your arms. My side hurts,â€ Malcolm replied, grinning.

Phlox passed by, shaking his head. He couldnâ€™t remember ever having had such ruckus in sickbay. Since Lieutenant Reed had been transferred from the Vulcan ship the night before, Hoshi, who was still off duty, had spent a lot of time by his bedside, and much of it had been quite the loud experience. He wondered what the Vulcan doctor might have done to the usually quiet Armoury Officer.

The doors swished open and Captain Archer came through with Commander Tucker. Archer glanced at the merry-looking pair and exchanged an odd look with Phlox. â€œDidnâ€™t know that getting hurt made people so happy,â€ he muttered to him, receiving in return a face-splitting smile. 

Phlox waved them on. â€œGo ahead, Captain. Iâ€™ll â€“ ah, how do Humans say, nowâ€¦ oh yes: Iâ€™ll grab a bite to eat,â€ he said cheerfully before disappearing behind the still open doors.

Archer cleared his throat and Malcolm turned to him, a full grin still on his face. â€œCaptain, Commander,â€ he said, for once not snapping to near-attention in the presence of his C.O. If anything, his smile actually got wider.

Hoshi smiled a greeting.

â€œMalcolm,â€ Archer acknowledged, amused at this unorthodox version of his Fourth-In-Command. â€œIf it werenâ€™t that you already spend enough time in sickbay as it is, Iâ€™d advise you to do this more often: nice to see youâ€™re having such a good time.â€ 

â€œItâ€™s the blood transfusion, Captâ€™n,â€ Trip joked. â€œHeâ€™s got some Tucker in him now.â€

Malcolm groaned. 

Archer chuckled softly. â€œI donâ€™t know if I like the sound of that,â€ he quipped with a frown. â€œA man who likes to blow things up with some Tucker in him? No thanks.â€ 

Malcolmâ€™s smile widened again. â€œI canâ€™t but agree, Sir. As Chief of Security Iâ€™d have to arrest myself, Iâ€™d be a hazard to the ship.â€

â€œâ€™Nough, you two,â€ Trip ranted.

â€œSo,â€ Archer enquired when the general mirth had died away. â€œHow long will I have to be without my Armoury Officer?â€

That did make Reedâ€™s mood change. â€œThe Doctor says another week, Captain. But Iâ€™m hoping I might be able to make him reconsider,â€ he replied with a smirk. â€œWere your mediating efforts successful?â€ he asked after a moment.

â€œWell, I donâ€™t know.â€ Archer shrugged. â€œTheyâ€™ve been arguing for the past five hours, but at least I got them all sitting around a table.â€

â€œYou did more than you should have, Sir,â€ Malcolm commented.

Archer gave a lopsided smirk. â€œWell, Lieutenant, you too went beyond the call of duty. It should be me on this bed. I havenâ€™t had a chance to thank you yet.â€

â€œI only did what I had to,â€ Malcolm said quietly.

â€œHe had to keep a promise,â€ Hoshi butted in, and all eyes turned to her. She blushed slightly. â€œMalcolm promised me heâ€™d bring you all back safely.â€ She frowned. â€œAlthough you also promised you wouldnâ€™t place yourself at risk unnecessarily.â€

Malcolmâ€™s eyes went wide. â€œAnd I didnâ€™t,â€ he countered, defensively.

â€œHonest-ta-God Hosh, darling, heâ€™s tellinâ€™ the truth,â€ Trip drawled. â€œI was there, I saw it all.â€

â€œThank you, Trip,â€ Malcolm said in mixed surprise and relief. 

â€œBesides, donâ€™t ya know the man? He doesnâ€™t place himself in unnecessary danger, he attracts it.â€

â€œThere is no scientific evidence to support your statement, Commander,â€ an aristocratic voice said. 

They all turned to see Tâ€™Pol approaching with Ambassador Soval. 

â€œAlthough there is enough evidence to warrant research,â€ Tâ€™Pol continued, eliciting in response various sounds ranging from amused to annoyed. â€œIt is agreeable to see that you are feeling better, Lieutenant,â€ she then said to Reed.

â€œIndeed,â€ Soval echoed.

â€œThank you.â€ Malcolm straightened somewhat painfully to a more upright position and cleared his throat. 

Archer mused that they had finally managed to make him completely uncomfortable. 

â€œAmbassador,â€ Archer greeted. â€œWhat brings you to Enterprise? I hope it doesnâ€™t have to do with the negotiationsâ€¦â€ If he was honest with himself heâ€™d never held much hope for their success.

â€œThe negotiations have ended,â€ Soval announced, lifting his eyebrows dramatically.

Archerâ€™s shoulders slumped and Trip grimaced. â€œWell, thatâ€™s too bad,â€ the Engineer said, voicing the general feeling.

Soval shot a slightly puzzled glance in Tâ€™Polâ€™s direction.

â€œThe Ambassador simply said that they have concluded,â€ Tâ€™Pol clarified to Archer, hands latched behind her back. â€œNot that they have failed.â€

Archerâ€™s green eyes twinkled. â€œAh,â€ he said, raising his chin. â€œDoes he actually mean they were successful?â€ he asked, restraining a smile.

Soval hugged his elbows. â€œAs successful as we could have expected. Vulcans will help both Doronites and Felesians establish equally sophisticated monitoring stations. Both species also agreed to share their information with us.â€

Archer didnâ€™t know whether to laugh or cry. â€œA sort of cold war,â€ he said, thinking aloud.

Soval shot another enquiring glance at Tâ€™Pol. 

â€œAn impasse,â€ the Vulcan Science Officer explained.

At that moment they heard the doors swish open. Phlox came through them and stopped short, studying the crowd in surprise. â€œCaptain, Iâ€™m afraid I am going to have to ask you all to leave. My patient needs to rest,â€ he said in a firm voice.

â€œOf course, Doctor. Lieutenant, Iâ€™ll stop by later on,â€ Archer said with a self-conscious smile, beginning to herd Soval, Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi out.

â€œJust when the conversation was getting interesting,â€ Malcolm muttered to Trip, who, being on the other side of his bed, had managed to escape their Captainâ€™s gathering arms. â€œSuccessful,â€ he added under his breath, commenting Sovalâ€™s words with a soft snort. 

â€œDonâ€™t forget, thatâ€™s Big Brother speakinâ€™,â€ Trip whispered back with a grin.

The leaving party was already at the door, but both Soval and Tâ€™Pol turned to shoot them odd looks. 

â€œWhat is so peculiar with elder brothers on Earth?â€ Soval asked, frowning and turning to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI am unable to answer you, Ambassador. I have no experience with human siblings.â€

It took way too long for the sickbay doors to close. A microsecond later Trip and Malcolm guffawed loudly, Malcolm holding his side.

â€œI believe your stay in sickbay might be longer than I had anticipated, Lieutenant,â€ Phlox said sternly, passing a tricorder over him.

Malcolm sobered instantly and Trip patted him soothingly on the shoulder. â€œNeed anythinâ€™?â€ he asked, preparing to leave.

Malcolm put on a thoughtful expression. â€œHow about that drink you promised me on Vegor 2 --- you know, the one from your secret stash?â€

â€œA secret stash?â€ Phlox looked suddenly interested.

Tripâ€™s eyes were crossed by a glint. â€œSay, Doc. If I showed it ta you, what would you give me in exchange?â€ He put a meaningful hand on Malcolmâ€™s arm, and the Lieutenant looked at Phlox with open anticipation.

Phlox studied the two Officers, a hand on his chin. â€œI have a surplus of bloodworms, Commander. I could spare a couple. Perhaps even three.â€ 

Trip rolled his eyes. â€œAw Gawd!â€ He smirked. â€œSorry, Malcolm.â€

Phlox smiled his excessive smile. â€œNice try, Commander,â€ he said, shooing Trip out.

â€œDonâ€™t forget that drink,â€ Malcolm called after him as the doors closed behind his friend. 

With everyone gone, sickbay suddenly seemed lonely and too quiet. Malcolm leaned back into the biobed, feeling exhausted. Phlox was right, damn. He was still in need of rest and tired easily. Heâ€™d better follow doctorâ€™s orders or heâ€™d be in here for longer than he could stand. He closed his eyes and let out a dejected sigh.

â€œAre you all right, Lieutenant?â€ Phloxâ€™s voice asked from behind his bed. â€œAny pain?â€

Malcolm didnâ€™t have the energy to turn to him. Eyes still closed, he gave him his standard reply. â€œIâ€™m fine, Doctor, thank you.â€

â€œI thought I heard you moan.â€

â€œIt wasnâ€™t a moan,â€ Malcolm said in slightly annoyed tones. â€œIt was a sigh.â€

â€œAh. You are tired, then.â€ 

The words had a funny ring to them, and had come from much closer, on Malcolmâ€™s right. Malcolm took a peek and found blue Denobulan eyes looking at him intently. He stared back. 

â€œI thought you wanted me to rest,â€ he said. 

â€œI thought you wanted a drink,â€ Phlox replied with a genial smile. With that he produced a thin, tall bottle from behind his back. He chuckled. â€œCommander Tucker is not the only person on this ship to have a secret stash. Ensigns Mayweather and Sato brought this back for me from Vegor 2.â€ He cast Malcolm a conniving look. â€œOne drink will not hurt you, despite your injuries. And since you need no analgesic...â€ 

Malcolm eyed the yellow liquor with suspicion. It looked likeâ€¦ No, it couldnâ€™t possibly beâ€¦ 

Phlox twirled the bottle in a manner probably meant to be enticing, but all it did was give Malcolm a good view of its phosphorescent contents, confirming his suspicions. It was that swill from Vegor 2. Taking a fast decision, he wrapped an arm around his midsection. â€œOuch. Bloody hell, not nowâ€¦â€ He scrunched up his face in a pained expression and choked out, â€œSorry, Doctor, but I think Iâ€™ll need something for the pain after all.â€

Phloxâ€™s mirth faded abruptly, replaced by professional concern. â€œLet me take care of it, Mr. Reed.â€ He moved away, muttering something about bad timing under his breath.

Just then the sickbay doors opened and Trip reappeared, a wide grin on his face. 

â€œPromises are promises,â€ he chimed, raising a bottle. But he hadnâ€™t taken another step that Phlox was there to stop him.

â€œIâ€™m sorry, Commander, but this will have to wait.â€

â€œOh, Doc!â€

Malcolm groaned.

â€œAs you can hear, Lieutenant Reed is in a fair amount of pain. I am about to sedate him so he can rest properly.â€ 

Sedate?... Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Phlox was at his side and a hypospray had been emptied into his bloodstream. Colours began to blend and the world started to fade away quickly. 

Not quickly enough, though, for a bloody Denobulan voice, albeit distorted, was saying, â€œBut since youâ€™re here, if you are willing to share your secret stash with me, Commander, I will share mine with youâ€¦â€


End file.
